


The Prince

by Sheena_Stalwart



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Hollanders - Fandom, RPF - Fandom, tom holland - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Holy Roman Empire, Machiavelli, Moody Tom, Palace, Princess - Freeform, Prostitutes, Rough Sex, Sex, Smut, Violence, moody, prince - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-04-28 01:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 45
Words: 50,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14438958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheena_Stalwart/pseuds/Sheena_Stalwart
Summary: This is based on the Machiavelli’s book by the same name. In this AU, Tom Holland is the ‘prince’ that Machiavelli is addressing but Tom actually takes up the advice that’s given in the book. He rules over the Holy Roman Empire (although there are MANY time period inaccuracies and creative liberties). You are noble born woman from the Papal States. You were married by proxy since Tom was tied up in a war. But now, he’s home and you’re meeting your husband for the first time. And learning what kind of ruler he’s going to be…





	1. The Prince Has Returned

“The prince has returned,” a voice calls from behind. It’s one of your hand-maidens. 

 

“I am so glad to hear it,” you lie helplessly through your teeth. You loved living in the palace. Surrounded by beautiful art and history, servants waiting on your hand and foot. You were undoubtedly living the high life, but now your husband is home… and you have no idea who he is or what he looks like.

 

You’ve seen some friends get parceled off in arranged marriages. They are almost always old, unsightly men that are eager to breed male heirs. 

 

Your handmaiden trails behind you to the throne room where you are about to meet your husband. You take a deep breath as two servants open the double doors. Across the room is a young man, slouched slightly on his throne. No crown on his head. He’s still in armor, battle garments are torn underneath. Dirt streaks his face, his hair matted with sweat. He was “fresher from war” than you anticipated. Was this man really your husband? He doesn’t wear a crown and he looks like he actually fought in the war- not just sat on a horse and pointed into the distance. Surely, the prince wouldn’t have participated in the actual fighting and much less come into his own throne room looking like a mad man. 

 

But he is sitting on the throne. Anyone else would be killed for sitting in the prince’s chair. You continue to walk towards him until you are practically at his feet. You curtsy with your head bowed low, a sign of deep respect. A slightly cocky snear spreads across his face. He sizes you up, undressing you with his eyes. The look on his face suggests that he is very much looking forward to consummating the marriage tonight. Oh boy. 

 

Up close, you see that he is devastatingly handsome and fit as workhorse. Consecrating the marriage may not be so abhorrent after all…

 

But then you consider that disconcerting, wildness in his eyes. He might treat you like a noble lady in the presence of the court, but something in his eyes told you that the same wouldn’t be true in the privacy of sacred bed chambers. 

 

Finally, he speaks up, “I am so glad to finally meet you. It appears we have much to learn about each other now that the war is done and I’ll be home more often…”

 

You try to smile, as his gaze devours your soul. 

That night you find yourself shaking as you prepare for bed. When Tom enters your shared chambers he shoos the guards away at the door. The doors shut and he bolts them. Slowly he turns to you. An unsettling smile on his face. 

 

He’s cleaned up since meeting in the throne room. His hair slicked back while a few curls tumble loose. His clothes bright and elaborate. A true prince indeed. 

 

He walks over to you very slowly. He puts a finger under your chin and inspects your face in the soft, dim lighting. 

 

“You are very beautiful, love,” he utters in a low tone. “I can’t wait to see what the rest of you looks like…”

 

You try to swallow your fear as you look into the eyes of a leader commoners consider to be a mad man.

 

He begins to undress, so that only his undergarments remain. He winces at a pain in his shoulders. Must be soreness from war or traveling. 

 

“Are you hurt?” you ask timidly. Maybe if he’s sore, he won’t be too rough with you. 

 

“It’s nothing to worry about, my princess.” He says taking deep breaths through the pain as he stretches. A gleam enters his eyes in the flicker of candle light. Maybe this unfeeling warmonger had weakness too. 

 

“Can I rub your shoulders for you?” you ask hesitation. 

 

He sits down on the bed, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try…”

 

You climb onto the bed and kneel behind him. He takes off his undershirt. His muscles ripple and shine in the soft light. You start to massage his boulder-like build. He seems to enjoy it asking you to apply more pressure telling you exactly where he wants you to rub. He leans his head back in relaxation. A low moan rumbles through his body. He sways and arches, entranced by your touches. 

 

Maybe he would be too tired to consummate the marriage after this…

 

“I’ve waited a long time for this night,” he utters like a well practiced curse. 

 

You hesitate to respond. Not wanting to answer truthfully but also not wanting to get caught in a lie. 

 

He continues, “After our marriage by proxy, I have remained true to you. Despite all my opportunities to catch my fix, I stayed faithful, anticipating this night.”

 

`Oh how virtuous` you think sarcastically. He’s probably lying. But if he really has remained faithful all this time, then he has spent a whole year pent up with anticipation.  Looking at his fit, impeccable form. You will be lucky if he doesn’t accidentally kill you tonight with his vigor. 

 

He reaches over his shoulder to grab your hand. He turns around slowly and plants a soft kiss across your knuckles. The scruff of a budding mustache tickles your skin. A curious tenderness in his gesture draws you in- perhaps deceptively.

 

You sink deep into his brown eyes. The sheer, white linen of your nightgown makes you feel very exposed under his stare. He traces his fingers lightly across the bare skin of your arms. You quiver from the novelty of his touch. His hand brushes against your cheek and you recoil slightly. 

 

“Now, now- there is nothing to be afraid of darling- this is my empire. Nothing can harm you here. Those who align with us will be caressed and those who oppose will be crushed…” 


	2. A Brother's Warning

The next morning you felt flushed. You could still feel the grip of his strong hands on your hips. It was pragmatic but not void of feeling. It wasn’t how you imagined a prince would treat his wife. There was something barbaric about it. Absent of pleasantries. Animalistic. 

 

A little frightened and unsure, you didn’t contribute much more than your compliance. You fulfilled each demand dutifully, although he didn’t say much. Afterwards- exhausted- he plopped next to you on the bed. Sweat beaded his brow. His face relaxed into an expression of disinterest and perhaps disappointment.

 

Worry crept into your mind. You needed to make him happy. Quickly bear him a son to show your usefulness. If you weren’t interesting enough, he could easily stage an accident in which you disappeared never to be seen again. Something not uncommon nowadays. A son would grant you security. 

 

Maybe if you were lucky… last night did the trick.  

 

Going about your daily court duties, a servant informed you that your presence was requested in the west wing of the palace… in the king’s quarters. 

 

The king’s illness had worsened and the queen deferred her courtly duties until further notice. Your prince, who had effectively been the commander of the empire for the past year, was now given full authority. In turn, you would be taking up the role of queen much sooner than you thought. 

 

Suddenly burdened with new responsibilities, you felt hot and overwhelmed. You took to the gardens for a stroll in the fresh air. 

 

You loved the fragrance and the peace of the garden. The feeling of soft flower petals between your fingers was like a touchstone for sanity. 

 

Suddenly, you noticed two very young men were following you. 

 

They must’ve came up the rear of the army, as they looked fresh from war like Tom did yesterday. Their hair tousled and faces dirtied. They joked as they walked behaving more like jesters than noblemen. 

 

You paused in your ponderance, to observe them as they approached. They looked unmistakably familiar. 

 

“Aha! There you are!” said the one with curls like Tom’s and a nose like the king’s, “you must be y/n! We were looking for you!”

 

The other young man with the straight hair and freckles like the queen, looked you up and down, “And here you are…” he said. 

 

“And who are you two exactly?” You asked with suspicion. 

 

The first young man who spoke threw his hands into the air, “Where are our manners?! We forgot to introduce ourselves earlier. I am Harry and this is Sam,” he said gesturing to the man next to him. 

 

Sam continued Harry’s thought, “We’re Tom’s more attractive younger brothers,” he smirked at you. 

 

“Oh!” you said realizing the inappropriate undertones of his comment. 

 

“Well, it was a pleasure to meet you,” Harry said with a low bow. “We will leave you to your stroll.”

 

Relieved, you continued your walk in the vast gardens. You went along your usual route but it seemed too quick. There was a gentle refreshing breeze and you wanted to avoid the hustle and bustle of the palace for as long as you could. So, you ventured to a part of the gardens that you had never been before. A maze of tall, luscious green hedges. 

 

You waltz right in letting a hand brush against the precisely trimmed branches. You turn a corner and BAM! You nearly collide with that Sam fellow and scream. 

 

“Shhh! Someone’s going to hear you!” He whispered. 

 

“Why wouldn’t I want someone to hear me?...” you asked holding your breath. 

 

“You can’t trust anyone in the palace anymore… Now that word of my father’s condition is public. Noblemen that think they are more fit for the throne will try to overthrow my brother.  And my brother… well, in turn he will-“ 

 

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” Boomed a voice from behind.  

 

You glanced over your shoulder as Tom slung an arm around your waist and pulled you towards him. 

 

“Tom- I was just- I-“ Sam stuttered. 

 

“Just in the garden, alone, whispering to my wife?” He scowled and you could feel the heat rising off of his body. “Isn’t it time that you married your betrothed?”

 

“I thought that wasn’t going to be for another few years…” Sam said aghast. 

 

“You ship off tomorrow to wed Mary Queen of Scots. We need someone in her ear in case we need outside support. You owe that to this empire,” Tom spat. 

 

“TOMORROW?!” Sam shouted in protest. 

 

“Tomorrow. Start packing,” Tom said with a scary firmness.

 

Now it was just you and Tom alone in the garden. He grabbed you by the wrist and whispered closed to your ear, “Don’t ever make me question your fidelity again.” 

 

“Tom, I didn’t- I wasn’t- I was just-“

 

He watched your face carefully, his eyes searching every feature and micro-expression. His eyes softened when he realized your genuine terror. His grip on your wrist loosened and his hand fell into yours. His other hand pressed to the back of your neck. 

 

“Everything will be alright, darling. Right now we need to be very careful about what we do and who we trust. But I promise you, I will take care of everything. You needn’t worry.” He kissed your lips tenderly. It shocked you at first but eventually your lips yielded to the affection. His kiss felt like a wordless apology. Quite a difference from the ones that scorched you last night, in the throes of his passion. 

 

Worry trickles into your thoughts. What was Sam going to warn you about? 


	3. Those Who Oppose Us Will Be Crushed

That night Tom didn’t touch you at all. In part, you were relieved because he was so rough with you the first night but worry festered in the pit of your stomach. If you don’t start producing an heir soon, Tom could have you disappear so he could remarry. 

 

Early the next morning, your handmaiden groomed you for a special affair. You had no idea exactly what it was only that you were needed in the throne room to sit next to your prince. You felt that you could trust your handmaiden to keep a secret. So, you ventured to ask her if she knew why the prince didn’t try to impregnate you last night. She nervously declined to answer. Afraid, you demanded that she tell you the truth. Scared, she revealed that she nothing, only that in the past she has seen prince’s take on mistresses when they lose interest in their wives. 

 

You asked her if she knew how to keep a man interested. She shrugged admitting that she wouldn’t know. However, she said that she would arrange a secret meeting with a connection she had at a whorehouse. Certainly, those women would know how to keep a man around…

 

Slightly relieved, you go to the throne room for the mystery occasion. You are announced by the doormen as you walk in. Your prince gives a devilish smile as you approach him. You bow graciously low before him and he invites you to sit in the throne next to him. 

 

For the next hour or so you sit and watch noble people fill the large space. A half circle in front of the thrones remains clear as armored men prevent the crowd from impeding the space.  

 

“Thank you all for coming today!” Tom exclaimed as the din quieted. “Will the house of Medici please step forward.”

 

The armored guards made way for a family. A middle aged man, his wife, and three teenage sons. 

 

“My sources tell me that your family has been conspiring to overthrow mine since my father’s illness. Do you have anything to say for yourselves?” Tom asks in a flat tone. 

 

“Your highness, I wouldn’t give credence to the rumors you hear-” the Patriarch of the family started. 

 

“Not rumors,” Tom corrected. “I have informants. They’re everywhere. These walls have ears but so does every facet of my empire. Do you have anything to say for yourselves?” 

 

The matriarch starts to catch on to the budding reality of the situation and she bursts into tears. Her three sons are quick to join her. 

 

“Your grace, I assure you. You’re father and I are very close we would never do anything to harm you or your family. I swear it on my life!” he professed. 

 

“Unnecessary. Your life ended the moment your mind turned to treason.” Tom stated plainly. 

 

He motioned to a man on the king’s guard to step forward. 

 

“Let’s carry on with it then. Kneel,” Tom continued. 

 

The Medici family knelt as they were commanded.

 

One by one, starting with the patriarch, the family was decapitated. Each head sliced off it’s shoulders with a sickly sound. Followed by a river of blood from the stump. Horror struck your heart and you turned to Tom in shock. 

 

His face was a steely cool grey tone. His features tensed but unmoving. You desperately wanted to look into his eyes, to see your own horror mirrored in them. But he rigidly trained his focus ahead and watched the bloody bodies be carted away. 

 

You stared at him long enough that he eventually shot you a look out of his periphery. There was the slightest hint of fear in them, but it evaporated as quickly as it came. If you blinked you would’ve missed it. 

 

The look felt like a coded message. ‘Follow my lead’. You kept your eyes ahead for the rest of the ‘ceremony’. You tried to keep your features as emotionless as possible. Family after family was called to the center to be announced as treasonous. They were asked to give final words and then they were executed. 

 

The stone floors were stained red. Puddles of blood showed the uneven spots of the room. The other nobles in attendance were wild eyed and terrified of what they had just witnessed. This must have been what Sam was warning you about!

 

Finally, after 80 executions, Tom closed up the ceremony, “Let this be a lesson to all those that wish to bring ill-will upon my family. You will pay the ultimate price for your deeds.” 

 

A terrified nobleman towards the front accidentally made eye contact with Tom. Out of a pure fear response, the man started clapping at Tom’s sentiment. Soon the whole room caught on. Clapping and cheering. Praising their prince for his iron fist of righteousness. The commotion went on for nearly ten minutes. Everyone was too afraid to be caught as the last one clapping. 

 

Tom grew tired off the noise and commanded their attention once more. The room was silent. Tom gestured to the man who started clapping first, “Tonight, you will dine at my table. Your family will not be taxed for the next month either.” 

 

Grateful and scared the man fell to his knees and thanked Tom profusely. Tom gave a distant smile. 

 

“Everyone is dismissed.”

 

As the noble families filed out. Tom grabbed your hand and held it firm. When the room emptied, he asked his guards to wait outside. 

 

Now completely alone, he turns to you, suddenly so much younger than the prince that just erased lineages from existence, “I’m sorry, love, that you had to see that. But we need to remain a united front.”

 

“Did all of those people really deserve to die?” You ask, finally letting yourself convey emotion.

 

His eyes glaze over and he hesitates. Now he is much softer in tone and he replies, “...I don’t know… But I can’t afford to give anyone the benefit of the doubt. Not even my advisors should be fully trusted… I had to do what is necessary to keep my family in this position of power.”

 

“But all in one day?! You couldn’t have given any warnings to the families… to the women and children…” you plead with concern. 

 

“My love, if you must commit unfavorable atrocities. It is best to do it all as quickly as possible. The quicker it is done, the faster the citizens will forget. And of course I couldn’t warn them. I had to be sneaky like the fox and utilize informants that would be greatly rewarded for their accuracy. But I had to kill those treasonous men to be like the lion. You see the lion can’t defend itself against snares and the fox can’t defend itself from the wolves. One must be a fox to see the snares and a lion to scare off the wolves. Unfortunately, darling, we live in the real world. Not the Kallipolis.”

 

You didn’t see a lion or a fox at all. Was he more man or monster? A scared child following instructions from a soulless madman or did he truly lack the compassion himself? Were you truly safe from his political games?


	4. Keeping a Mad Prince Happy

Your clandestine meeting with the whore was terrifying. Never have you done something so rebellious in your life. But this was necessary. This was for survival. 

 

“Take control,” she said, “Get on top. Get into it. Men like it when you take the reins. But for when they don’t they like to force you back into place.” 

 

This news was terrifying. This was not the soft spoken metaphor of conception that your mother taught you. 

 

“He’s a warrior, a commander, a Prince.” The whore said, “He’s not a poet. So stop expecting him to be. If you take him for who he is and give him what he wants- maybe then he’ll respect you. But what do I know?!” She rolled her eyes, “I’m just a whore!” 

 

So much fire in that woman. Your handmaiden slapped her for being so rude to you, “She’s your princess! You should treat her with respect! Her husband’s the most powerful man in the world! If you saw- if you saw the things he did yesterday- you would think twice before being so rude.”

 

“Most powerful man in the world- ha!” The whore scoffed. “Then why does he bow down to me…” 

 

Those words rattled through your mind all day. Your handmaiden reassures you that she was a childhood friend and a compulsive liar. She couldn’t have possibly meant what she said. She promised you the Prince would never lower himself to go into that filthy brothel. 

 

But what does your handmaiden really know about Tom? What do you even really know about Tom? 

 

From the conversations you’ve had with the Queen, he was always a wild kid. A fearless rebel, rule breaker, handful, sore-loser.  It would seem well within those traits to sneak out to brothels as a young teen. He has enough money to get himself anything he desired really. Nothing is impossible for a Prince. 

 

It made something beneath your skin itch and crawl. You’d been well kept. Pure and virginal until Tom took you the other night. With much less experience- how could you ever hope to compare to women that do it all the time? Or to someone more beautiful and adventurous than yourself?

 

You’d implement the tips but take them with a grain of salt. You needed to give Tom something no one else could offer him. 

 

That night you dined with the man who started the clapping and his family. They trembled with fear and gratitude. Tom was gentle but when he threw his chalice down after the first toast, he enjoyed watching the way they jumped. 

 

The feast was delicious as always but you didn’t feel much like eating. Your corset was tighter than usual and your nerves were in a twist. Tonight you needed to make him happy, fulfill his desires. 

 

When he walked into the bedroom, his head was hung low, his curls falling onto his forehead. It was a long and rough day for your Prince. He started undressing for bed. 

 

“Can I help you, my dear?” You said timidly. 

 

“I don’t need any help,” he shot back with a tinge of irritation. 

 

You walked up behind him, his shoulders bare in the soft light. You traced your fingers lightly over his muscles.

 

“You seem tense… can I help you unwind?” You say cautiously. 

 

“I don’t think you can help…” he muttered angrily, fussing with a button to remove his pants. But you remained behind him, unwilling to give up. Your well-being was on the line. He stepped out of his pants and turned around to face you, “What do you want woman?!” He snapped. 

 

His eyes scary, cold and unfeeling but you held their gaze and dropped to your knees. 

 

He shouted, “Get up!” Then softened “… don’t- don’t look at me like that…”

 

You remain on your knees and silent. He continues, “I said- GET UP!” 

 

You start to second guess everything and begin to tremble. Your eyes build up with tears. You timidly reach for his undergarments and begin to pull them down.

 

“What do you think your doing?!” he exclaimed swatting your hands away. 

 

You paused, still silent and reached again to pull them down. This time he lets you expose him as curiosity captivates his mind. You wrap a hand around his flaccid penis and gently massage it. He grows firm and expands. He shuts his eyes tight and you take him into your mouth. You go as far as you can and gag on his length. 

 

He opens his eyes at the sound and rips you off of him by your hair. “That’s enough,” he grumbles harshly and walks past you to climb into bed. 

 

You remain kneeling in shock. That was not at all the result you were expecting. How could that have possibly made things worse? In the throne room he seemed so tender towards you.  So sorry that you had to watch the executions. But now he won’t let you try to pleasure him. 

 

You climb onto the bed and finally muster the courage to ask, “Why?” 

 

He paused before responding, “I’ve had enough of torturing people today… I’ve seen all the frightened faces I care to see…” 

 

“I want to make you feel better, my Prince. Let me help you forget those frightened faces…” you whispered. 

 

“How can you possibly help me forget them when you’re wearing one…”

 

You place a hand on his chest and let it trail down the ridges of his abdomen, until you grip his meat, “Not tonight, I won’t…” You gulp. No turning back now! You must be brave!

 

He raises an eyebrow as he wonders what the hell has gotten into you. Then you remember the whore from early, “Then why does he bow down to me?” and it enrages you. If Tom’s bowing down to anyone it's going to be you.

 

You tackle him and his eyes widen. You fumble around trying to insert him but you’re clenched too tight still and you wince trying to push it in. You’re more angry and scared than turned on and now it’s causing you problems. You just get more angry and frustrated. 

 

A partial smile comes across his face- is he a friend or foe-  you can’t tell. 

 

He pulls your face to his by the hair on your neck and kisses you wildly. It nearly takes your breath away. 

 

His hand slips down to your front and his fingers produce a tingling sensation that you haven’t felt before. 

 

He breathes heavily in your ear, “It’s alright… you just needed to relax a little…” and he shoves his cock inside of you with ease. 

 

He wrestles on top of you, pinning you to the bed. You fight back. If you want to keep him, you need to show him that you can be on top.

 

You try to squirm out of his grip but he holds your wrists flush against the sheets. His biceps bulge but the task is all too easy for him. He watches you writhe beneath him. 

 

He laughs light-heartedly and says, “No! You’re not going to win this one- I am much stronger than you!” and he kisses your cheek. “Is this what you wanted, darling? Is this what you were begging for on your knees for?” his voice deep and sultry. I guess this is what he wanted. I guess this is all that princes ever really wanted. To feel powerful. To be feared. But also to be loved. Wanted. Needed. 

 

“Yes,” you stammer, still a little unsure. “I’ve waited my whole life for you. Only you can have me in this way…” 

 

A renewed vigor enters his eyes and he thrusts faster. But there is more than just raw aggression there. You swear you can see a twinkle of something else. 

 

You struggle against him and he likes it. You moan loudly at his touch and you watch his eyelids droop with a horny lust. 

 

He finishes with a loud grunt and grit teeth. 

 

He flops to your side. Sweaty and drained. This time he laughs, looking up at the ceiling.

 

His strong arm pulls you close and you rest a hand on his chest as he cradles you. A new bridge of intimacy was opening up. 

 

“That was more like it…” he laughs. 

 

You kiss his cheek. 

 

“You have nothing to be afraid of, my love. I won’t hurt you. You are my princess and I will always protect you.”  


	5. Relics of the Past

The next day you had tea with the Queen while the King was resting. You had so many questions about filling her shoes temporarily. But suddenly, when you sat down with her, questions about the Prince flooded your mind. You heard a handful of tales before, but now that you’ve met him- now that you’ve got a glimpse of who he is- you want more context for his behavior. 

 

“Was Tom a well-behaved newborn?” You asked. 

 

The Queen nearly choked on her tea, “Oh dear, there is no such thing as a well-behaved newborn! They’re all fussy, little tyrants- but you’ll get through it and there is always your handmaiden to fall back on… but dear- it’s much too early to tell if you’re pregnant- where is this coming from?”

 

“Oh- uh- nowhere! I was just wanted to prepare for the future, that all…”

 

“Hopefully the near future,” she said before taking a sip. 

 

“...Yes- of-of course!” You stammered. 

 

She gives you a curious look, “What’s troubling you, princess?”

 

“Nothing!” You said hastily. 

 

But of course that didn’t fool her. Her eyes searched you over looking for a rhyme or reason. You nervously take a sip of your tea. Her eyes fall to your wrist as your sleeve slides back. 

 

You quickly put the tea cup back on the saucer and tug at your sleeves. But the faraway look in her eyes confirms that it was already too late. She saw the faint bruise. 

 

“Oh, my dear boy…” she said with solemn remorse. “He was born with a warrior’s heart. The king was so proud… on his first day of training. He was the youngest of his group and one of the smallest… But the commander was so impressed… so pleased,” she looked at you pointedly. “He showed no mercy- that’s what the commander told the king and I that night… Usually they have to beat the compassion and mercy out of the young warriors… it came so naturally to Tom. The palace had a feast that night in celebration. My husband’s chest swelled with pride as he delivered the toast, ‘To my son- blessed with a lion’s heart and a fox’s mind!’”

 

You sat on the edge of your seat, unsure of how to respond. 

 

To your surprise, the Queen continued, “His first kill soon after... He was barely 13. The man was much larger. An older fellow. With a wife and two small kids. It started as target training- you know- hit the red marks on the man’s armor with a practice weapon. But it all unravelled. Tom kept missing the marks. His mentor was yelling at him from the sidelines. I watched the rage fill Tom’s eyes. But behind them- there was- there was- Nothing. Like his soul was drained, cast out, borrowed by the devil. Tom drew his real sword and challenged the stand-in man to a real duel. Of course, he couldn’t refuse his prince. And of course- he couldn’t really fight against the prince- not without getting himself executed after. The man’s only hope was to block and defend until Tom gave up. The man lasted nearly ten minutes before he became a pin cushion. Tom gutted him like a fish. Hacking through flesh long after the lights in man’s eyes burnt out…”

 

The Queen stared out the window, a distant look in her eyes. Your hand was shaking. How could the man you cuddled with so tenderly last night and this monster be the same person? 

 

“...But he also has a sweet side, does he not?” you chime in, your voice a bit hoarse. 

“A sweet side?” she shakes from her daze, “My dear, that boy came out of my womb, I’ve known him every day of his life, I am his mother… If there is a sweet side to him, I’ve never seen it…”

 

So, is it a trap? The Queen’s response seems so genuine. Surely, she’s telling the truth. But if she’s never seen his sweet side, then does his sweet side actually exist? Could it be a mind game? Could he be luring you into a false sense of security for some later scheme? Your heart is pounding in your chest. Your palms begin to sweat. 

 

“Well, now… I suppose I spoke too soon,” the Queen pondered. “Every now and then I think I see a flicker of something. A flicker of what- I am still unsure.”

 

You let out a breath you were holding in. 

 

She continues, “Well, there was two times, in particular- I guess- when I thought I saw a glimpse of a softer side. Once, the night before his first departure to the warfront. He was still so young. I went to bid him goodnight in his chambers one more time- it was quite an emotional night for me… He wasn’t expecting me. The guards didn’t announce me, seeing as I was so desperate to see my boy again. When I came through the doors, he quickly turned away, and I thought I saw him wipe his eyes. When he faced me again, his eyes looked puffy and read. I had not seen him cry since infancy. I’ve watched him suffer burns and injuries never once shedding a tear. He was angry with me for barging in. He refused my request for one last embrace. I was heartbroken when I left. The second time, was much different. He was not much older and had just returned from a border squirmish. I was passing through town- a rare occasion- on my way to visit our other palace when I saw him. I saw him so briefly- I thought for a moment that my eyes might be playing tricks on me. He was with a commoner. A girl. I couldn’t get a good look- the streets were so crowded that day. I barely got more than a glance. But it was him. He was laughing. A grin wider than I have ever seen. He stood so close to her, it was obscene. I saw him gently caress her cheek. But he never spoke of her. I prompted him later about what I saw. He denied that he was even in town that day. But I could swear to you now, that it was him. I know now that the reason that he was almost unrecognizable. It was the look in his eyes.”

 

“I think I’ve heard enough,” you said sharply. 

 

The Queen’s eyes shot you a warning glare for the tone you used with her but then they immediately softened. She must’ve seen the insecurity in your eyes. The fear of being second. 

 

“Oh, my dear,” she said sincerely, “Tom may have been a bit of a rebellious teen, but I assure you, he knows his place in this empire. He knows the value of this union. Your family’s aid is invaluable. He would never leave you for a commoner. He could not afford it. It would reap havoc and social destabilization in our land. There would be an uprising. If one could make it into the palace- it would give them hope that they all could. It would rattle the cages. Tom would never do that. He loves this empire more than anything… I think it may be the only thing he truly loves. If I’m honest, I think he’d kill his own family for it…”

 

While her words were meant to be comforting, you found no solace in them at all. You began to feel quite ill. 

 

Who was this commoner girl? Could it have been the whore? Did he love her? Can he love? Is there really a soft side that you can reach? How far would he take his love for this empire?


	6. Past Haunts the Present

After tea, your prince invited you to the throne room. The guards at the door announced you. He was just brushing up on combat skills and facing a fellow soldier in a duel. Your arrival into the room distracted the Prince. 

 

The soldier struck him in the chest with the practice weapon. A breath escaped his lungs, “Halt!” he yelled. 

 

His brow was beaded with sweat. His hair unruly and untamed hanging in his face. 

 

“My love,” he called to you, “I’m so glad you could come.”

 

“Of course, my prince,” you say humbly with a low bow. You are careful to give him respect. Especially now that he is armed. 

 

“Please, my princess, have a seat!” he said gesturing to your throne. 

 

You obeyed. Giving him a bow as you passed. You kept your eyes low. Trained on the ground. You were scared of what might be reflected in his eyes. 

 

You watched him fight. Furious and full of spite. He would look to you occasionally to make sure you were paying attention. To make sure you were impressed. You made sure that every time he glanced over the look on your face said you were smitten at every movement he made.

 

He was a spectacle, you didn’t have to fake much. He was vessel of pure man power. His movement graceful and elegant- it was deceptively artful. 

 

He spins around strikes the soldier with a diagonal cut to the shoulder. Tom wasn’t holding back from the momentum of the blow. Even though the sword was dull- it was heavy- and the soldier wailed in pain upon contact. Tom let out a battle cry at his victory. A final release of pent up tension.

 

Sweat dripping from his hair. He threw down his practice blade to the floor as the soldier knelt down in defeat, nursing his hurt shoulder. 

 

Tom walk towards you with a confident strut. As he approached, his pungent odor was both repelling and attractive. The smell was rank, but the outpouring of pheromones awakened a primal desire in you. On the most basic level, this strong, healthy, perfect human specimen was ideal for breeding. He’d produce healthy heirs and be able to defend you during your vulnerable pregnant state. 

 

But you aren’t Neanderthals. This is not the Stone Age. 

 

You are a princess, one of the most valued ladies in court. The relationship between man and woman is much more complicated now. Society has enacted extra rules and criteria. With higher levels of thinking and wealth, comes more responsibility and expectations. 

 

A level of respect, decorum and showmanship was expected. A united front. Faithful and strong. At least while in court. Once those bedroom doors closed, all bets were off. You could return to your true state, whatever that state may be. 

 

He reaches for your hand and you hold it out for him. He kisses the back of your hand. Nothing more than a quick dry peck. More moisture came from the surrounding sweaty skin. You resisted the urge to immediately wipe your hand on your dress. You wouldn’t dare disrespect him. Not after the stories you heard this morning. 

 

Your eyes flitted up to his and immediately back down. You could feel him give you a curious look. A hint of hurt and more than a dash of rage. 

 

“Leave us, good sir!” Tom called to the soldier who was still on the ground. He swiftly got up and left. Now it was just you and Tom all alone in the throne room. Your heart thundered in your chest. He didn’t sound happy. 

 

“Look at me,” he boomed in low voice. 

 

Your eyes immediately shot up to meet his. Those stormy brown orbs, like bottomless dark pits. There was something missing behind them. Something off. 

 

He grabbed your wrist and yanked you off your throne, his mouth nearly pressed to your ear, he whispered, “Princess, I care not if you love me- but you bloody well pretend when my men are around. Is that clear?”

 

Shaking, you nodded. 

 

“I asked you a question, princess, I want a verbal response,” he growled. 

 

“Yes, my prince,” you said quickly. In your state of fear, you couldn’t catch your breath, and your bodice was bound too tight. Your chest heaved rapidly, up and down, up and down. It caught your Prince’s attention. He glanced down at the slightly exposed top of your breasts. A devilish smirk slithered up his face. He licked his lips like a wolf about to devour a baby. 

 

His bitter scent flooded your nostrils and the sweat from his hair dripped onto your face. You leaned away from him as much as you could. However he continued to lean over you. A posture of intimidation. 

 

“Don’t lean away from me, darling,” he smirked. “Don’t you trust me?”

 

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer. He would see right through your lie. 

 

By the wrist, he leads you forcefully into a hidden room on the west side of the throne room. It was disguised well, you could barely tell the door apart from the wall. It was a combat room, a planning station. There was an assortment of blades on display as well as practice weapons. There was a place for sparring, targets, and a large table with a map of the empire on it. 

 

Tom goes into a display cabinet, clicking his tongue as he searches for a particular weapon of choice. Your wrist is bright red under his grip. You’re gasping for air in your tight dress. Tom’s hand settles on a thin, sharp knife. What was he thinking? Was this it? Was this your end?

 

He brings you to the table. He slams your hand down next to the map. You cry out. He pries your fingers apart by placing his hand on yours and lacing his fingers in between yours. 

 

“Don’t move,” he instructs into your ear, but you are frozen with fear anyway. His breath is hot on your neck and it tickles. 

 

Then he begins to stab the table in the spaces between your fingers. You gasp, wincing, waiting to lose a finger. He laughs maniacally as he goes, slowly increasing speed. 

 

“Tom- Stop! Please! Please!” you cry. 

 

“You need to learn to trust me, darling!” he snorts. 

 

“Please, Tom! Any other way but this!” you plead. 

 

“Oh really? Any other way?” He coos, suspiciously. 

 

He stops suddenly, dropping the knife, letting it clatter on the table. He grabs you by the hair and gives you a quick, hard kiss on the mouth. You lose your breath and before you know it he is dragging you to the other end of the room with the targets. 

 

He places you in front of one of the targets, a dirty smile on that handsome face, in any other context you would’ve admired it. 

 

“Stay here,” he commands, “Don’t you dare move!”

 

With the bullseye only a few centimeters above your skull, he grabs a bow. 

 

“What do you think you’re doing!?” you shout. 

 

“Don’t move!” he yells, taking aim. 

 

“Tom!” you shout. 

 

He releases an arrow, instinctively you duck. 

 

“Darling, you never listen! I told you not to move!” he roars. 

 

You glance above you, the arrow perfectly stuck into the center of the target. 

 

He throws down the bow and marches across the room to you and grabs you forcefully by the shoulders, pinning you to the wall. 

 

To your surprise and to his, you spit, “I’m a lady! And you’re going to treat me like one!”

 

Shock strikes his face but his grip on your shoulders remains firm. 

 

Adrenaline floods your veins and you continue yelling before your mind can stop you, “I am a princess! I am your wife! I am not one of your little toys! You might be able to whip everyone else around here to bend to your will- but I refuse! You will treat me with the dignity I deserve or I swear I’ll go back to the Papal States! Reputation be damned! My family will pull their purse strings and your empire will crumble stone by stone!”

 

His eyes wide as the full moon. He’s speechless. There is a fear that enters his eyes. He’s suddenly just a boy. Not a warrior, not a lion, not a fox, not a prince- just a boy. Just a stupid, irrational, rambunctious boy that played with a torch and got burned. He lets go of you, his arms falling slack at his sides, his breathing heavy, he turns away with a distance look of worry in his eyes. He’s still silent. 

 

After a moment, he speaks up, his voice is hoarse and dry, “... you’re right… I- I- don’t know what got into me… it was misplaced… it’s not your fault- you’re just victim of this too… it’s not your fault… I thought I left those things in my past… I’m sorry, darling…”


	7. Trust Goes Both Ways

That night you waited anxiously for him to come into your chambers. You parted on such an odd note and it was getting late. 

 

You paced about the room, wondering about what his episode was about. How could one prince be so hot and cold? Why was he so late? What could he possibly be up to at this hour?

 

You are about to leave the chambers to go find him when the door swings open. With his head down, he nearly runs you over. You step out of the way quickly. He seems upset and agitated by something. He doesn’t look at you or even acknowledge that you’re there. He starts to undress. 

 

“What’s wrong?” you ask hesitantly. 

 

“Nothing,” he huffs. 

 

“What was keeping you so late?” you gently prod. 

 

“Running the bloody empire!” he yells through grit teeth, “Have you nothing better to do than pester me with these questions?!”

 

You kind of didn’t. You’re whole life was kind of supposed to revolve around the prince. Making his life easier, sitting next to him at the dinner table, and giving him sons was your part of contract. With your womb presumably empty, and your Prince outraged- your failure to meet expectations was wearing on you. 

 

He climbed into bed with not so much as a glance in your direction. His eyes remained downcast. He snuffed out the candle before you even got to the bed. You had to stumble the rest of the way in the dark. 

 

Although it was very late, you were much too worried to fall asleep. What was he hiding from you? Why was he possibly the most complicated and intimidating man in the whole empire?

 

The room is quiet. The only noise you can hear is the Prince’s breathing. Slow and steady. But then you hear the rhythm change tempo. He starts to hyperventilate and each breath is shaky. A quiet sniffle escapes. Concerned, you turn over, his back is facing you but as your eyes adjust to the dark you can see his shoulders shaking. 

 

You can’t help but worry about him. Absentmindedly, you reach out and gently rub his bicep for comfort. He instinctively holds his breath and jerks away from you. 

 

However, you scoot closer to him and prop yourself up on one elbow. If he moved away from you anymore, he would role himself off the bed. He buries his face in the pillow and you try not to laugh because it seems so childish.

 

Instead, you wrap an arm around his abdomen and kiss his shoulder. 

 

“What do you want from me, princess?” he says in an agitated tone, muffled by the pillow. 

 

You think quick on your feet. You already tried asking him what was wrong- he just got angry and clammed up. Clearly, there is something bothering him, but his proud heart won’t let him show it. He’s a warrior Prince. He thinks he’s the hero of this story and he doesn’t need to be saved. So you trick him. 

 

“I need my husband,” you whisper into his ear. “I need his touch.”

 

He grabs your hand and moans, “It seems that everyone needs something from me these days… I can’t even get some peace in my own chambers!” he scoffs, but you swear you see a smile on his face. 

 

Finally, he turns towards you, his eyes look watery. 

 

“Please, hold me!” you beg him. 

 

“Alright, alright, alright, princess, calm down,” he says wrapping his arms tight around you. He whispers in your ear, “Is this what you needed?” 

 

You hug him back and kiss his cheek lovingly, “Yes, my prince, you are everything I need and more!” 

 

His breath hitches and you feel his body stiffen. 

 

You continue, “My prince, it will take time, but I think we can learn to truly love one another. I didn’t mean to disrespect you in the throne room and I’m sorry I didn’t trust you, but trust doesn’t come easily. I want to trust you, I really do! But I can’t do that until you are completely honest with me. Until you let me in and keep me in the loop. I want to make you happy. I want to give you children. I don’t want to be just your wife, but your friend and your love. But I can’t do that until I know who you truly are- all the edges and corners…”

 

He softens and his grip on you tightens with an affectionate squeeze. He lets out a deep breath, “I want those things too. I’m just not used to it. I can’t afford to trust anyone…”

“But you CAN trust me! Trust goes both ways…”

 

“I know, I know that, darling… I’m just afraid that the truth might be too much for a lady like yourself. We don’t live in a kind world.” 

 

“Why don’t you start with telling me about that commoner girl…” you say hastily. The words sting and sour your mouth as they leave. But you must know the answer. You rather know now and get the hurt over with. Was it the whore? Was it someone else? You must know. Who won his affection over as a young man? And is it possible for him to ever look at you the same way?


	8. A Whore's Trick

He pulls away from the embrace, propping himself up on an elbow, “What did you just say?” There is an edge in his voice. 

 

Treading lightly you continue, “The Queen, she told me she once saw you in town, with a commoner girl…”

 

“And you believed her?!” He says incensed, “What does she know? She never goes into town!”

 

“She said it was a rare occasion- she was on her way to the other palace. She told me she saw you, standing close to a commoner girl- laughing and smiling…”

 

“I’m sure that’s true. I’m sure in the millions of times I’ve been through town that a commoner girl said something funny and I laughed… are you happy?” He said dryly. 

 

But you weren’t so convinced that was the whole story. There was something in his eyes. Something in the way he reacted to the accusation. 

 

“She wouldn’t have happened to work in a brothel?” You inquire. 

 

His eyes widen, “Why would you say such a thing?!” he bites. 

 

“Please, just tell me the truth… I don’t care what the truth is- I just want to know… Did you go to the brothels a lot when you were young?” 

 

“I- I don’t think this is an appropriate subject for a lady-“

 

“-you don’t treat me like a lady anyway,” you say cutting him off. His eyes flare with anger and your heart skips a beat.

 

“Do not interrupt me again, princess,” he growls in a low decibel. 

 

“Please, your highness,” you say with a careful tone of respect and his face winced at the title. “I want to know you. I mean really know you.” 

 

“You don’t have to call me that, my love. Especially not in here. I really don’t want you to be afraid of me. That’s not my intention. I know I have a temper. I know I can get aggressive but I’m a warrior.”

 

“But you don’t have to be a warrior all the time, your grace.”

 

“Please, love, could you just call me Tom when we’re in here,” the look in his eyes was soft and docile as if he wasn’t about to rip your head off a second ago. 

 

“Of course, whatever you wish,” you say gently caressing his cheek. “But please, I hope you can understand, that you can also be completely yourself in here- with me.” 

 

“I am myself!” He says defensively. 

 

“What I mean is that you don’t have to be the lion or the fox in here- you can be the young man. The young man that is full of complex emotions, hopes, desires and needs. You can unveil your full self to me and I promise I will not betray your trust. I will protect your facade but I need you to help me see the full picture. I want to make you happy and ease your burdens but I can’t do that if I don’t know what’s going on inside your head.” 

 

“...Well, if you must know- I think the girl she saw me with was Ghita.”

 

You held your breath, bracing for the worst. 

 

He continued, “She was the most precious little flower. Always so bright and graceful. She could make me laugh, make me forget my duty to this empire, make me forget the blood on my hands. Yes, she was worked in a brothel- that’s where we met- I mean that’s where I’ve met most of them. Ghita, Catalina, Bartola, Paula- they all loved me there. I was their favorite, a savior from all those crusted old men. Someone who could really light up their dull lives.”

 

“It’s because you had money!” You spat. 

 

“What?!”

 

“You’re a Prince- of course they told you those things- you could pay them the best!”

 

“Excuse me?” He rumbled angrily, pinning your shoulders to the bed. “You don’t think they could’ve possibly loved me because I gave them something to look forward to. Something in their silly little lives that only I could give them?”

 

Fear strickens your heart but you try to swallow it down, “And what do you think you gave them?” you manage but you tremble in anticipation of his retaliation. 

 

The words hurt, clearly no one has ever challenged him on this matter before. “Something you could clearly never understand!” he shouted, his eyes like those of a mad dog. He shook you by the shoulders violently as he continued, “They wouldn't just lay there crying like you did that first night! They were exciting, special and challenging! You want me to be some fairy tale man that reads you poems and braids your hair- but that’s not me! I am a warrior, through and through, and that’s exactly how I live, eat, sleep and fuck- so stop expecting anything different!

 

Your eyes welled up with tears but you held them back. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of making you cry. 

 

His voice deepened, “And don’t you ever insinuate that Ghita didn’t love me. I loved her so much I wanted to marry her- I knew it was impossible- I knew that when the time came my father would find some wealthy, prude bitch like you to make me have children with. But I believed I could find a way around it- she was everything and she loved me for everything I was. I would pay her large sums of money so that she wouldn’t have to work anymore- so that no one else would ever touch her- so that she could be mine…” His eyes became vacant and distant as if he were reliving a memory. 

 

He continued, “Then, one day, I went to the brothel with some fellow soldiers to celebrate our last night at home before a squirmish. I had seen Ghita earlier that day, so I thought I’d pay Bartola some attention. But we walked into the wrong room and I saw that Ghita was fucking some old nobleman. I was livid. I smacked Ghita hard in the face for her infidelity. For her greed of money. She fell to the floor unconscious. With no weapons on me, I choked the man to his death. I felt the strained pulse in the veins of his neck until they pumped no more and he was limp and naked on the bed. When I turned around Bartola and Ghita were gone. I never saw Ghita again. Rumor speculates that she escaped the empire. Now everytime we pillage a new town, I search for her face. The only woman I ever truly loved.”

 

Your heart felt frozen, a lump of a sop crawled into your throat. You felt so hurt and angry at the same time. How could he say these things? You resented him greatly for his freedom in his youth, for his inability to be shamed. You were practically locked in your bedroom your whole life. Given lessons, told fantastical lies about marriage and noble life. You were kept distant from any boy remotely your age to ensure that you were untainted. You were well groomed until the day your parents sold you like livestock. You spent all of those lonely years dreaming of a good marriage, of someone to protect you, love you and touch you- it would make all of this waiting somehow worthwhile. Now, here you are- married to the prince. You were so lucky for him to be so handsome but he has lived a full life without you. He has lived so much that you are boring to him and he would rather pine after a whore. 

 

“She didn’t love you…” you say as a tear escapes your cheek. You no longer care if he chokes you out right here and now. 


	9. A Prince's Anger

“Of course she loved me! I would’ve married her if I weren’t a Prince! If we were married she wouldn’t have been unfaithful!’ he defended. 

 

“No…” you said quietly. You were about to tread on thin ice, “I’m sorry. I really am. I know you were just a lonely boy. A boy that was scared to die in war just like everyone else. But she took advantage of you. She just wanted your money. If she had really loved you, she wouldn’t have taken that job with the nobleman for any sum of money- not if you were already providing for her…”

 

“No, no, no,” he started to frantically deny. His eyes started to brim with tears and he shook you by the shoulders, his voice hoarse, “No… impossible, that can’t be true…”   
  


But you could see the wheels turning in his head. You were making all too much sense. All the shreds of doubt from that time could no longer be explained away. 

 

“I’m sorry, prince…” you say and you watch him slowly come to accept the bitter reality. “But at least you got an opportunity to love,” you say trying to help him see the bright side. “I’ve never been allowed close enough to anyone else. You are my only chance at love.”

 

He blinks out of his trance. A new realization comes into his mind. “She wasn’t worth it,” he barks angrily, “That stupid bloody whore played me! She gave herself away to anyone with a dime- when I commanded that she was for my use only!” He was fuming. You were afraid he was going to wake up the whole palace. 

 

“Tom!” you say placing a hand on his cheek, “Please, don’t yell… It’s over now! It’s in the past! She can’t hurt you anymore!” 

 

He shakes you in his misplaced frustration. “She made worms meat of me! I should’ve killed her when I had a chance…”

 

“Shh… it’s okay!,” you certainly feel like you are trying to tame a lion at the moment. “Don’t let her get under your skin. You were only a boy- a young Prince! But now you are the most fearsome ruler in the whole world! You crush those who question you and reward those that sing your praises! Don’t give that lousy old broad a second more of your time...”

 

He was still bursting with anger. His chest heaving in and out rapidly like a wild beast. You needed him to redirect this energy. Channel it into something else before his nails dig through your skin. 

 

So you continue, “And now.... I’m here- I can be everything you want me to be... We can be partners…I just need you to tell me what to do…” Suddenly you knew exactly how to diffuse the situation, “Darling- you own me!”

 

Those words seemed to spark a different type of fire, a sinister smile spread across his face, “That’s right, I do own you, little princess…” he groaned into your ear, his hands moving to your waist. 

 

“You can trust me, Tom. We can learn to love each other. But please don’t ever withhold your affection from me! You are the only man that can touch me and I need your special warmth…” you moaned to prompt a rise out of him. 

 

His teeth raked across your neck, “I’ll kill you if you ever look at another man…”

 

One of his hands started to fondle your breast and you gasped dramatically. A lust deepened in his eyes. “I’d rather go blind than ever look at another man- none of them could compare to you my prince!” 

 

He started to rip at your nightgown, tearing the sheer white linen down the center. Instinctively, you started to shield yourself for dignity but he smacked your hands away from yourself, “Don’t you dare tease me by hiding yourself- you are my property, remember?”

 

“Ye- yes, of course,” you stammer and put your arms around his neck. 

 

He starts to fondle you again. You stare into his eyes and softly whimper at his touch, until his chest swells with pride. “See, love, this is what I was talking about. I can give you something to live for. Something to make your dull court life worth living,” he roars seductively. 

 

You are starting to get a hang of this mind game. Let him think he has all the power and he will play right into your hand. Suddenly, the whore’s words make sense. If you played your cards right, the prince would bow down to you. 

 

“Oh, yes! My handsome prince, of course!” you exclaimed. 

 

You felt something grow firm against your thigh as he crawled over top of you. 

 

“My prince, I’m so sorry you had such a rough night. How can I make it better?” you whispered suggestively as you rubbed his back. 

He closed his eyes with delight as you rubbed at a sore knot in his back. His head dropped low. He let out a loud sigh, leaning into the pressure,  releasing all the angry pent up tension in his bones. 

 

“...Maybe you could use some rest… I could rub your shoulders until you fall asleep…” you suggest like a lullaby. He moaned compliently. You had successfully put out the fire. 

 

But then he suddenly picked up his head and pierced your gaze. He reached a hand down between his legs and you felt his hardened member tap gently against your thigh, “Then what am I supposed to with this, princess?” He rumbled in a low tone, “I can’t possibly let you get me this way without a consequence… Don’t you need this, little girl?” He asked as he began to press himself against your opening. While your body was still slick from the earlier arousing contact, your inner walls pushed back against his head. 

 

You didn’t answer his question, you remained silent trying not to visibly wince and cry out at the pain. 

 

He grunts as he tries to insert himself, but he couldn’t quite force his girth through. He tried to massage you looser, but you remained clenched with fear. His eyes trained on yours the whole time and you tried to hide your discomfort. You didn’t want to insult him. 

 

His head drops low between his shoulders and his hand pulls away from you- giving up. “I guess not…” he says dejectedly. 

 

His forlorn reaction in defeat surprises you. And what follows surprises you even more… 

 

He leans in to sweetly kiss your cheek and he brushes the hair away from your face, “I’m sorry, my princess… I hope I didn’t hurt you… you shouldn’t have to pretend in here…” 

 

He slumps down next to you on the bed with a huff. You watch his back rise and fall with each breath. You rub that spot on his back and moans appreciatively. Somewhere under there was a redeemable man. “We can try again tomorrow, my Prince…”


	10. A Soft Spot

The next day, droned on with little excitement and meaning. You sat for a portrait that was painted by Alessandro Allori. The Prince couldn’t be bothered to sit still for a portrait. He was too wrapped up in quelling a civilian uprising in a town nearby. 

 

After sitting for so long, caked in a paste makeup, you retreat to your sleeping chambers. You find the maids changing the linens and tidying up the room. A young woman picks up the night gown that Tom tore in half last night. Without thinking, she gasps in surprise. Immediately, her face turns red and she balls up the garment in her hand. 

“I’m sorry,” she said looking down at her feet, “I-I-I don’t know what I was thinking... I didn’t mean to pry…”

 

“It’s alright,” you say with a friendly smile. Suddenly, the matter presses on your mind. You want nothing more than to tell someone about all the absurd things that happened last night, but you refrain. Matters that occur behind closed bedroom doors between a Prince and his wife should remain unspoken. As tempting as it was to confide in the help, you couldn’t risk personal matters falling into the wrong hands. There was still disorder in the empire and the threat of a coup was still present. 

 

The maid asks if you would like her to repair the night gown.

 

“I don’t think the Prince would like that…” you reply quietly. Her eyes grew twice the size and her cheeks rouged. 

 

You take a walk in the palace gardens, it was a beautiful day and you wanted an excuse to enjoy it. You walked towards the hedge maze, recalling the day you ran into Sam. As if summoned by your thoughts, Harry also approached the entrance.

 

“Aha! Princess, there you are! I was wondering if you could spare me a chat?” he said with a wide smile. 

 

He gestures for you to enter the maze and you oblige. A creeping sensation of fear crawls up your neck. In your experience clandestine talks rarely turned out well…

 

“Why aren’t you with your brother quelling the rebellion?” you asked curiously. 

 

“Oh, I wasn’t needed. Truth be told my brother wasn’t needed… he just hates sitting around the palace. He’d much rather be maiming people!” he said with a laugh. 

 

“I hate sitting around the palace too…” you whine quietly. You really shouldn’t have said it but between the privacy of the hedge maze and Harry’s calm and understanding demeanor you couldn’t help but aerate your frustration a little.

 

Harry laughs softly, “Perhaps Tom will let you fight in the next uprising…”

 

Your eyes flare with horror. 

 

“I’m only kidding, princess! He would never endanger his most prized possession…” 

 

“Ha!” you scoff. Immediately, you cover your mouth in regret. You let too much of your true opinions slip. 

 

Harry raises an eyebrow, searching your face curiously for an explanation. 

 

“I have no idea where that noise came from,” you lie terribly, searching over your shoulder and looking around emphatically. 

 

He snatches up your wrist and pulls up the sleeve. Breath escapes your lungs in surprise. He eyes up the faint bruising still present on your wrists. 

 

“Yeah… that’s about what I thought…” Harry said gently releasing you from his grip. “Sorry, to have touched you without your permission, princess… I just figured you would never have showed it to me if I had asked.”

 

“... It’s alright,” you say softly. “There are much worse things in the world then having your sleeves rolled up…”

 

Harry’s voice got deep and soft, “I know, princess. Tom is not always the most kind or benevolent man. I am his younger brother- remember? I have endured countless, merciless beatings from him as a kid. He truly has a warrior’s heart through and through.”

 

“I believe it… you don’t have to tell me twice,” you nearly whisper. 

 

“But he also has a soft spot…” Harry says. 

 

“Ah, yes- for filthy whores- is that right?” you snicker. 

 

“Well- yes- he certainly thought so for a time,” he laughs dryly. “But have you ever seen him at the stables, princess?” 

 

“Stables? No, I haven’t,” you say curiously. 

 

“You should see the way he interacts with the horses… I think you’d see a different side of him. He loves to race them hard through the fields- but I swear he loves those beasts more than our own mother!”

 

You hear trumpets sing faintly in the distance. 

 

“Well, princess, it sounds like your husband should be home any second. I’m sure he’d love for you to greet him.”

 

Taking Harry’s advice you head to the palace entrance to await the arrival of your Prince. Soldiers march down the lane in formation. Commanders walk astride on horseback. They seem in good spirits and you presume they were successful in their endeavors.

 

You spy your Prince coming up the rear of the party on a beautiful black horse. You wave to him from the stairs. He waves back and signals for you to walk towards him. You obey and walk to the the bottom of the stairs waiting for him. 

 

Tom dismisses the army and waits for them to file away, until it is just the two of you. His horse sneezes and you jump back in fear. Tom laughs at you. 

 

“It’s not funny!” you insist, although a smile comes to your face. 

 

“He wasn’t trying to hurt you, darling. He just got some dust in his nose!” he chuckles. 

 

“Is he friendly?” you ask. 

 

“Sometimes…” Tom responds ominously.

 

“I suppose you two have that in common,” you risk with a cheeky smile. On another day, that comment could have sent him into a defensive rage, but he seemed to be riding a high from the win. 

 

“Why don’t you try giving him a pat on the neck? Tell him he’s a good boy… he’ll like that…” Tom says. 

 

You step close the behemoth of a steed and do as Tom instructed. The horse lowers his head and let’s a snort out of his nostrils. 

 

“What does that mean?” you ask looking up at Tom. It’s hard to get a good look at him as the sun sets low just behind and it nearly blinds you. His silhouette is darkened but you take note of the sweaty curls that cling to his forehead and the dirt smudges on his cheeks. But something about him seems unusual. 

 

You realize that it’s because he is smiling down at you with pure joy, “That just means that he’s relaxed, darling. He’s happy to be home.”

 

“Are you happy to be home, my prince?” you ask sweetly.

 

Tom imitates the horse, in a display of silliness that you didn’t expect from such a serious man. It was endearing. A spark of hope arises in your chest. Perhaps, this could be a turning point in your partnership. Maybe catching him in these unusually good moods could be a key to making the most of this marriage.

 

“Are you happy that I am home, princess?” he counters, “Or were you secretly hoping today was the day I met my end?” His tone was lighthearted and playful, you could feel a genuine happiness emanating from him and it was contagious.

 

“Of course, I am happy that you made it home, my prince!” You say with a laugh. He holds out his hand to you and you receive it with an endearing squeeze.

 

“Why don’t you hop on my love?” Tom suggests gesturing to his horse. 

 

“Nonsense! It would be improper… I’m wearing a gown- plus, I’d be too scared- I don’t know how to ride!” you fumble nervously. 

 

“Hop on with me! I’ll keep you safe. We’ll just head back to the stable- it’ll be fun!” he insists.

 

“I can’t! I’m too scared! It’s too dangerous!” you say shaking your head rapidly. 

 

“Princess,” Tom commands in a deep tone. “I wasn’t asking.”

 

His sudden shift in tone makes your heart stop. As terrified as you were, it seemed worse to ruin his good mood.

 

You nod obediently in acceptance. 

 

He scoots back behind the saddle and leans over to lift you on. His strength and balance as he helped you up was remarkable. This man knew what he was doing. You balance precariously, sitting side saddle. 

 

“No, no, no,” he whispers into your ear. “No need to be a proper lady… If you want to learn how to ride I’m going to show you how to do it correctly- now swing one leg over.”

 

You do as he commands and he smooths down your dress to cover your dignity. You still feel a guilt of indecency as your legs are spread vulnerably with a beast underneath you.  

 

The Prince notices your discomfort and he whispers into your ear, “It’ll be alright. Ivan’s quite tame when he’s tired… You have to learn to ride him first, if you ever hope get on anything wild…”

 

“Prince, I don’t think I’d ever try to ride a horse that wasn’t well behaved…”

 

He leans in so close his lips gently brush against your ear, “I wasn’t talking about horses…” 


	11. A Stable Romance?

He shows you how to hold the reins and how to steer. Tom wraps one arm tight around your waist and hooks one hand under the pommel. 

 

When the stable comes into view, Ivan picks up the pace.

 

“What is he doing? He is going much faster now? I didn’t tell him to go faster! What do I do?” you panic. 

 

Tom laughs, “He has a mind of his own, darling! It’s his dinner time, give him a break for his beastly appetites… he can’t help himself.”

 

You were starting to catch on to the shrouded sexual metaphors Tom was whispering into your ear throughout the ride. With his mighty arm wrapped tight around your waist, you started to feel a tingling in your loins that you couldn’t explain. 

 

Arriving at the stable, he hopped off and helped you dismount. He handed Ivan off to a groom. You peer curiously inside at all the horses. They’re all brushed clean and resting after a long day. They munch loudly and unapologetically on their dinner. 

 

“Would you like a tour, princess?” Tom asks.

 

“I don’t think I should… My mother always told me that ladies don’t belong in barns…”

 

“Forget manners! Forget what your mother told you! Do you WANT to go inside?”

 

“... I do, my prince…” you admit. 

 

He happily introduces you to all of his favorites. Rattling off their stats. You come across a smaller horse. A dark bay with four white socks and a handful of white blotches. Her dainty little face and kind eyes draw you in. 

 

“She’s so beautiful,” you say in awe to Tom. 

 

Tom laughs, “Ivan thinks so too… they have to make sure he stays far away from her…” he pauses watching you admire the mare, “She’s can be yours if you want…” he says with a smile. 

 

Your eyes light up and you nod graciously which puts a smile on your Prince’s face. Then you notice Ivan returning to his stall.

 

“Why don’t we go into the feed room and get Ivan an apple?” the Prince suggests. 

 

“Oh, of course… I’m sure he deserves it,” you respond. 

 

The second the door to the feed room closes, he starts humming a run to himself. He cuts up an apple on the counter and opens the door gesturing for you to go first. You find yourself bowing and thanking him although you are unsure why you are so gratuitous.  

 

Approaching Ivan’s stall, he nickers at the sight of the Prince. Tom opens the stall door to greet the steed with a face rub. An irreplaceable smile on his face. He starts to feed him the apple slices and Ivan happily gobbles them up. 

 

“Such good work today, Sir Ivan,” Tom says in a mock serious tone. 

 

It melted your heart to see such a soft and silly side of your iron fist Prince. For a moment, your thoughts wandered. Would he treat your children similarly?

 

Tom calls your attention back to reality, “Would you like to feed him the last slice?” he asks. 

 

“...Uh, sure… he won’t bite?”

 

“I promise, my dear, he will not bite,” he says still beaming. 

 

The prince puts the slice in your palm and instructs you to hold your hand out flat. Ivan stretches his neck curiously towards your hand but you hesitantly pull away, out of reach. 

 

”Don’t tease the poor fellow like that,” He laughs. “It’ll be alright, darling, just trust me,” he rests his hand under yours and guides it towards Ivan’s muzzle. 

 

Ivan’s lips flap against your skin as he picks up the apple. The sensation tickles and you laugh. 

 

Tom gives you a surprisingly affectionate hug from behind and joins you in laughter, “See, my princess, that wasn’t so bad!” 

 

It suddenly feels more like a dream than reality. How could this possibly be the same man that shook you so violently the night before. The same man that shot an arrow above your head. The same man that executed 80 people before lunch one the other day. Were you going to have to hope he won every battle for the rest of his life? That kind of luck is unsustainable. Would you have to live the rest of your life in the stable? Use the horses as a shield to keep him in a good mood? How could you get the prince to be this kind to you all the time?

 

Back at the palace, he refuses to clean up before dinner. He attacks his meal ravenously and smirks at you in between bites as if sending the message- ‘you’re next’. You can hardly what’s in front of you anticipating what might or might not come next once those bedroom doors close.

 

After dinner, the Prince brushes off several noblemen with pestering questions. He asserts that he isn’t dealing with anymore matters until tomorrow. “He needs his rest.” However, this is most certainly a ploy since he pulls you along to your chambers at an accelerated clip. 

 

“Help me take off this armor, darling,” its a command not a suggestion. 

 

You help him as diligently as you can. He winces in soreness and pain. You notice that a deep gash on his arm has reopened. Quickly, you ask him to sit in a chair. You grab your uselessly torn nightgown to sop up the blood and fasten a tourniquet. 

 

He gives you a knowing smile, “I guess it's a good thing I already ruined it…”

 

You rest on your knees, applying pressure to the wound in hopes of decreasing the blood flow. In nothing more than his underwear, he smirks at your submissive position. His gaze is so intense you lower your eyes bashfully. 

 

“Why must you tease me, princess?” he says with with a click of his tongue. 

 

“Tease you?” you ask innocently. 

 

“If you’re going to be on your knees like that, you better put my cock in your mouth,” he hums seductively. 

 

You blush but don’t respond. 

 

He raises an eyebrow, “Come on, now. Don’t be shy! Where is that cheeky girl that talked back to me earlier this evening, hmm?”

 

He grabs your hand like he did earlier when you were too scared to feed Ivan. Except this time he guides your hand to the slow rising fabric of his undergarments. He moans as he helps you palm him through the fabric. 

 

Suddenly, a loud and angry knock pounds on the thick wooden doors. 

 

Tom’s face immediately erupts with irritation. Whoever was at the door better have a good reason, because they just awoke the sleeping lion within your Prince. He stands up and kicks the chair away with frustration quickly putting on some clothes. You hastily throw on a dressing robe. 

 

The frantic angry knocking continues and Tom’s face is red with anger. 

 

He rips open the door. 

 

Shock encapsulates you.

 

Why was she here?

 

The whore you talked to earlier that week. 

 

“Bartola?” Tom nearly chokes on her name. 

 

Bartola? Bartola from the conversation you had last night? The same whore that gave you advice on pleasing the Prince? Your handmaiden’s childhood friend?

 

Why was she here now?

 

Bartola shouted at a bold decibel, “We had an appointment, remember? I don’t appreciate my time being wasted!”  


	12. A Hard Truth to Swallow

Tom grabs Bartola by the wrist pulling her inside. He closes the door and slams her up against it. 

 

“Keep your voice down…” he grumbles close to her face. 

 

“Let go of me! Let go of me at once! Or I’ll tell your little princess about everything!” she spat. 

 

“Not if I silence you first…” he mumbled, pinning her to the wall by her shoulders. 

 

Your heart felt like a shredding into a thousand little pieces. You felt so betrayed, unsure, and angry. Nothing good can come of this situation. You find yourself in such distress you cry out, “STOP!” without even thinking. 

 

The Prince turns to you, still pinning Bartola to the wall. 

 

Tears enter your eyes, but you hold them back, “I demand to know the truth…” you say through grit teeth. 

 

“It’s not what it looks like…” Tom says in a low voice. 

 

“It is what it looks like!” Bartola screeched. 

 

“Quiet- you viper!” Tom rages. 

 

“I can’t believe you…” you say solemnly, trying your damnedest not to cry. 

 

“Princess,” Bartola coos, “Princes only have to APPEAR virtuous, or have you forgotten?”

 

You feel foolish. You were no better than a child believing a tall tale when you thought you saw a kinder side to him. Surely, this man, who so unceremoniously broke your heart, couldn’t possibly be the same man that hugged you so affectionately in the barn. How could you have been so stupid to believe that he could be sweet and upstanding. He truly is the mad man of the commoners’ legends. 

 

“We had an appointment this evening, scheduled same time as last night, right your highness? Isn’t that why you returned to your room so late?” She giggled. 

 

Shame, rage and disgust fill your veins. Part of you wants to watch her head roll of her shoulders at the edge of a blade for the pain she’s caused you- but the hate passes in a fleeting moment. She may be tempting your Prince, but she’s also just trying to make a living. On the other hand, your Prince has you at his disposal every second of every day- and still he’d rather outsource to some filthy common girl. 

 

You can no longer hold back the tears and they roll freely down your cheeks. 

 

Tom shakes Bartola violently and growls, “Look what you did! You upset my princess- you will pay for this!” 

 

Fear flashes in Bartola’s eyes for the first time in this encounter. But it’s only for a brief second. “You need me… you know you need me… you won’t dispose of me so fast…” she says slyly. 

 

Tom’s arms fall slack at his sides. He rummages through a dresser drawer and produces a small pouch of gold coins. He throws it at Bartola, “For your silence- Now leave us at once,” he grumbles. 

 

Bartola takes the money and leaves with a satisfied chuckle. 

 

“Don’t cry, darling,” Tom says walking towards you. He reaches his hand out to wipe a tear from your cheek and you instinctively recoil. 

 

His anger flares at the rejection and you start to sob, regretting your action now that it may cause you more harm. 

 

His eyes soften and he pulls you into a hug. You want nothing more than to push him away and beat him up, but that wouldn’t do anything to help you right now. The most resistance you can muster is to not hug him back.

 

“It’s not what you think…” he says softly. 

 

“Then WHAT IS IT?! Was she lying? Did you really meet with her late last night?” you wail. 

 

“Yes… I did…”

 

“Well, then- there’s nothing more to say about it!”

 

“Princess… she told me she knew where Ghita was hiding- I had to find out- I had to know!” he says defensively. 

 

“That stupid whore! I told you- she never loved you! She USED you! She used you more than you used her!” you spat finally just shoving him away. You didn’t care if this upset him. You couldn’t stand touching him. 

 

His eyes are full of hurt, “I-I know that now… but I met with her before our conversation last night…”

 

“Well, why didn’t you tell me about your meeting with Bartola last night when we were talking about Ghita?! Why didn’t you mention it if it was relevant and innocent… unless it wasn’t all innocent...” you say with a hoarse voice.

 

Tom sits on the bed and drops his head low with a heavy sigh.

 

“You bedded her didn’t you! You treacherous swine! You can’t help yourself? Can you?” you were fuming. You were light-headed from shock at the words flooding out of your mouth. 

 

He just shook his head in disbelief. Not answering your question.

 

“You are such a coward! You can’t even own up to it!” you shouted. 

 

He stood up quickly, his face contorted and red, eyes cold and unfeeling, “That’s enough, princess!” he barked, marching towards you. You start backing away from him until you bump into a dressing table. 

 

He grabbed you by the jaw and forced you to look him in the eyes, “I know you’re upset, but don’t push it…” he grumbled. “And yes, the meeting ended with her typical services… does that answer your question?”

 

It did and it hurt like hell. You couldn’t stop hyperventilating. He let go of your face and place his hands gently on your hips. 

 

His face softened, “I’m sorry…” he said genuinely, “I really hate to see that I have hurt you.”

 

“Then why did you do it?!” you croak. 

 

“I-I- don’t know. Old habits die hard-”

 

“-Not good enough!” you interject. 

 

“Look! I was still set on finding Ghita at the time! I was still preoccupied with that and… I don’t know… I guess Bartola was a nice way to keep myself distant from you so that I could focus on Ghita…”

 

“Distance yourself? I am your wife! It’s not even been that long! How can you already be sick of me?! I have tried my best for you! I am sorry that it hasn’t been pleasing to you yet- but I am trying! And that is more than I can say for you!” 

 

His eyes glisten like soft, melting chocolate, “I know you’re trying… And I promise- I meant what I said last night when I said I wanted to make this work. But all of this happened BEFORE that conversation and I can’t take it back. I know you have little faith in me right now- but I really do want to make the most of this partnership. I mean- I even forgot all about my appointment with Bartola tonight- shouldn’t that speak to something?”

 

You shake your head unsure of what to say. 

 

“My dear, I’m sorry I hurt you. Please, forgive me and let us start over…” he says apologetically as his hands roam to your lower back and his hips press against yours. 

 

He leans in give you a kiss but you pull away. 

 

“Then let me sleep!” you exclaim and push past him to your side of the bed. You strip off your robe and crawl under the sheets. Tom sighs heavily and undresses again. Before he gets to  the bed you snuff out the candle. 

 

You hear him bump into the bedpost. Good- you think to yourself. He deserves it.

 

He slips under the sheets and you can hear him shuffling around uncomfortably. 

 

Breaking the silence he says in a quiet voice, “Princess, I really enjoyed our time at the stables this evening- that was by far the most fun I’ve had since my father got ill… I suppose right now you probably hate me- and I understand that but- … I hope you can believe me when I say that I was really looking forward to spending my night with you. And I look forward to getting to know you on a more intimate level in general…”

 

You remain silent. 

 

He continues, “Whether you like it or not we’re still married… but I want to make this right.”  


	13. A Failing Empire... A Suffering Marriage

The next day the Prince is very busy. Apparently, he is pacing restlessly like a caged lion in the strategy room. Some moral conflict about whether or not he should break his promise to the people by taxing them. The ongoing border skirmishes were becoming expensive. Especially, as the cost of care for the King was increasing exponentially. A drought in the rural areas that surrounded the city, was causing a shortage of food. The palace was always well stocked but the surrounding towns started to feel the pangs of famine.

 

The prince didn’t want to enrage his people. Taxing them would save the border wars but enrage his constituents. While the high price of food and increased taxes would inflame the citizens enough to mobilize- the numbers of the mob would decrease exponentially due to starvation. However, if he doesn’t increase taxes than he risks French invasion in his most vulnerable territories. 

 

Relinquishing any land to the French could be a slippery slope to the fall of the empire. Once the Prince can no longer protect his people from foreign invaders, he ceases to be relevant and the invaders become the feared authority. 

 

All these conflicts make your head spin, as you and Harry take a stroll through the hedge maze in the garden. He also tells you that they have yet to hear if Sam had made it to Scotland yet. Perhaps, once he’s there, he can convince Scotland to send funds. The Prince is apparently opposed to this idea. He doesn’t want to draw in foreign aid unless it is absolutely necessary. He doesn’t want to owe any other country anything if he doesn’t have to. Harry suggests that maybe your family could shell out more generous donations. 

 

You insist that your family comes from very strict moral values. They would be displeased to find out they were giving donations that were funding a war. They greatly opposed the King’s initiative to conquer more land. They suspected that the Empire was getting too big for its britches and now it’s starting to look like they were right. No longer expanding its territory, the Empire has been struggling with border wars consistently. Ethnic and cultural tension at the edges of the empire have sown seeds of discord between the citizens and government. 

 

Tom was fighting hard to maintain the empire his father had built, but with the struggling economy, it was harder now than ever to maintain peace in the land. 

 

Harry spent all morning with Tom in the strategy room. He says that he was nearly tearing his hair out, conflicted with his choices. Harry noted that it was especially difficult since the King was slipping in and out of a comatose state. The doctors told Tom that he shouldn’t talk politics with his father while he was awake because his brain was in a fragile state. All he has is a silly little book to turn to for what he should do. 

 

Harry is very worried about the state of the empire, but more than that he is worried about the state of the Prince’s sanity. He’s been acting odd all morning. Angrier and more volatile than usual. Harry was surprised he was in such a bitter mood after winning a battle yesterday. 

 

He asks with suspicion if anything happened last night that would put him in such a surly mood. 

 

“Well… nothing but his own making…” you say quietly, even though you are in the privacy of the garden. 

 

Harry sighs heavily, “Is this a guessing game? Do I have to guess the answer out of you?”

 

Your lack of reply is confirmation enough. 

 

“Let’s see… Did he have trouble- you know- uh- was he impotent?”

 

You shake your head but giggle at Harry’s discomfort in bringing up the matter. 

 

He sighed with relief, “Did you tease him? Reject his advances in a condescending manner?- He hates that- he’s a very fragile man…”

 

You try to stifle your laugh. You shouldn’t laugh when someone says things like that about your husband- but you couldn’t help it- Harry was so spot on! But you shake your head once more. That was not the case of last night’s problems. 

 

“Oh, nooooo... “ Harry stops suddenly drawing out his guttural moan, “He couldn’t possibly be- NO!- There is absolutely no way!- Please don’t tell me he is trying to find Ghita again!”

 

You sigh heavily, denoting that he was indeed correct. 

 

Harry smacks a hand to his forehead in disbelief, “Our empire is falling apart and our fearless leader is chasing leads of a whore that used him for his money as a teenage boy- we’re all bloody fucked!”

 

“... Well, there’s a little more to it than that…” you say runninging your hand along the hedges. 

 

Harry pauses for a minute to think, “Let me guess… No- no- no- no- Bartola?! Please tell me otherwise- I beg of you!” 

 

You give him a very serious and hurt look in response. You have to be careful of what you say and what gets back to the Prince. While surely Harry wouldn’t overthrow his brother or do anything to hurt him such as spread these secrets- the less he knew the better. If Tom finds out that he knows these things, he will surely suspect that you’re the one that told him. You could not yet rule out the possibility that your husband would put your head on a pike at the palace entrance for embarrassing him. 

 

Harry sighs, “A prince only has to appear virtuous, right?”

 

“Sometimes I wish he had the decency to appear virtuous to me… I thought I wanted the unbridled truth. I thought that if I knew the truth I could help him and in turn he’d be grateful for me. That perhaps we could have a trusting and loving partnership… but now I wish he would just lie to me. Let me live in a happy little bubble of lies…” you say looking into the distance. 

 

“Now, now, Princess… you don’t really want that. My brother- well- he’s an idiot- I’ll give you that. But he’s not a lost cause… I heard from one of the grooms at the stable that you two were getting quite intimate. Intimate is rarely a word tossed around when people talk about my brother- I wouldn’t discredit his feelings towards you quite yet, princess. He’s stupid when it comes to dealing with or expressing emotions- but he is incredibly passionate. Don’t underestimate his attachment to you- you really put him in a hell of a mood this morning.”

 

Perhaps he had a point. If was truly upset about how things went down, did that mean at the root of it all he really cared?


	14. Fight in the Sheets

That night you wait impatiently for Tom to come into your chambers. You spent your afternoon making pleasantry rounds with all the top supporting noble families. Tom was too busy to attend the boring dinner and luckily Harry stepped in to make the toast. You really haven’t seen Tom since last night. 

 

Frustrated, you were already in your nightgown, sitting up in bed with the covers drawn to your waist. Perhaps the Prince would see it as a bit rude that you had crawled into bed before he got there- but at this point manners be damned. With the serious economic crisis the Empire was facing, Tom couldn’t afford to kill you off quite yet. He still needed your parents funding. 

 

It was getting late and your mind wandered. What was taking him so long? Probably an appointment with Bartola… your heart started to hurt but then it turned into raging anger. How could he make such a fool of you? How could he possibly pay money for a commoner girl, when you prepared your whole life for him and gave him your best for free? It was beyond unfair!

 

Finally, the door creaked open, before you could even see him you snuffed out the candle and laid down to sleep. You were so angry you thought you might explode should a single word fly out of his mouth. 

 

You shut your eyes trying to fall asleep as fast as possible, but he kept noisily stumbling around in the dark. The tread of his footsteps sounded off. His eyes surely would’ve adjusted to the dark by now. Eventually, you hear him stagger into bed. 

 

It sounds more like a face plant onto the pillow, followed by a pained groan. This peaked your interest but you refused to roll over and give in to your curiosity. 

 

You could hear him take stifled quick breaths, but it wasn’t quite like the hyperventilating you heard the other night. Was he injured? No, that’s impossible he was stuck in the palace all day. Could he have possibly injured himself with Bartola? If that was the case… you kind of wanted to see it so you could revel in his pain. 

 

You roll over, “Tom?” 

 

He rolls over to face you and you gasp involuntarily. 

 

From what you can see, he has a swollen black eye and some new gashes on his arms, face and chest. He looks like he’s in a lot of pain, but manages to hold back any waterworks. 

 

“What happened?” You press. 

 

“I did something very stupid…” he mumbled. 

 

“Well- I’m sure of it! But what did you do?” you questioned

 

He took a deep pained breath, not wanting to answer. You were still so pissed at him, yet part of your heart lurched at his vulnerable display.

 

“Tom…” you said softly, brushing the hair away from his swollen eye. “Tell me…”

 

“I got into a drunken duel with Harry… And I would’ve won!- had I not been drinking…” he said with guilt. 

 

“What?! What possessed you to fight drunk?” you pushed.

 

“I had a very long and stressful day,” he said growled defensively, “All day was damage control here and there! On all the things falling apart in our empire- I just needed to unwind and take my mind off things! So- Harry offered to drink with me…”

 

“I understand that part, Prince… but why would you think it was a good idea to bring weapons into the mix?! I thought you were supposed to be clever like the fox!” you tried hard not to laugh at his stupidity.

 

“Well- you see,” his face started to wince with guilt and you braced yourself for what may come next, “After a few drinks, Harry let slip that he knew about the incident with Bartola…”

 

Suddenly, your face felt hot and you got angry all over again. 

 

He continues, “I deduced that you were the only one that could have told him… and Harry admitted that you two had a long conversation about it in the garden today and I just- I just-” he stammered.

 

“You just- what?” you said with a bitter tone. 

 

“I just- couldn’t bloody stand it! I was pent up in a tiny little room all day- while Harry got to take a stroll in the garden with you!- It’s not fair!- he can just chat all day with people in private- and people they just trust Harry! They tell him all about their hopes and dreams- and they hang on his every word like he’s God! Meanwhile, I have to hold the whole Empire together with one hand! -and I- I wish I could’ve taken that walk in the garden...”

 

“So you decided to maim your brother?... Because, he got to go out for a stroll?...” you criticize. 

 

“It wasn’t my fondest moment- I know- but- I just didn’t know what to do! I am so stressed out about everything and I don’t know how I’m supposed to rule this bloody empire by myself! I have no idea how my father did it for so long- I’ve been tearing my hair out all day and I can’t even bloody ask him how he did it!” a few tears escape his eyes and he winces as they find a fresh cut on his face to antagonize. 

 

“May I speak candidly with you, your highness?” 

 

“Please! I told you! I’m so tired of hearing that title- especially right now! Please, don’t call me that in here!” he whines. “But, yes, go on- speak your mind…”

 

You sit up, ready to make a point, “USE YOUR WORDS!” you say dramatically pushing his arm with harmless intent. “The next time you get jealous of Harry for getting fresh air- put down the practice sword and just tell him! There is no reason to have your eye nearly swollen shut because you forgot how to use your words! And!- You know how your father accomplished so much for this empire? He didn’t do it alone! He had his family! He had his Queen! I know for a fact that he relied on your mother because I’ve talked to her about it many times when discussing the job! That’s why she stepped down from her duties- because they’re a team! You CAN’T run this empire alone- no one can- so use your words and let the rest of your family help you!”

 

“But I can’t afford to seem weak! There are far too many people that think they are strong enough for this throne!” he rebuttals. 

 

“Asking for help doesn’t make you weak and not asking for help just makes you stupid!” you spit. 

 

“Watch yourself!” he warns. But he is much less intimidating when he can barely move. 

 

“I know you can’t seem week to your people, the nobles or to other states- but you don’t have to hide your weaknesses from me or your family… We are here for you. It is in all of our best interest for you to succeed.”

 

He pauses contemplatively. He knows you’re right and he’s cross about it. He’s prideful but he can’t deny the logic in your argument. 

 

After a moment, he says, “And- I don’t like you spending so much alone time with Harry…”


	15. It Was Real

“Ha!” you laugh with a hint of patronization, “Well, I don’t like you spending so much alone time with Bartola- so tough luck!”

 

“It was once!” he grumbled.

 

“That doesn’t make it any better!” you counter with increasing anger.

 

“I’m sorry!” he begins to plead. “I wasn’t thinking- I was upset- I got caught up in old habits! Please- just stop being so upset with me! I can’t handle it! I’m not going to do it again, my dear, believe me! I didn’t mean to hurt you…Okay? I promise, no more clandestine meetings with whores...”

 

“I’m sorry- I can’t force myself to forgive you quite yet. I wish it were that easy- but I don’t trust you and I don’t believe you. Your promise means nothing to me right now.”

 

“Well then how about those clandestine garden meetings with my brother? Should I even trust you? Can you at least promise me you won’t do it again?”

 

“No!” you let out a painful laugh at his naivety. “That’s not at all how promises work! You can’t exchange them back and forth like currency! A promise is an act of good faith- a surrendering of oneself! I’m not going to promise you that I’ll never talk to your brother in the garden again.”

 

He growls at you, “But you are MY wife! And I don’t appreciate you going around acting like you’re not!”

 

“What?! I do act like your wife and I treat him as OUR brother!” you retort. “You should be grateful to Harry! He has been a fantastic brother to me. I know it must seem like a foreign concept to you- but I intend to keep my vows. I love this empire too much to jeopardize it… I want to be the proud mother of the next true heir to the throne… That’s what I’ve been preparing for all my life and that’s what I intend to be- whether you keep your promises or not.”

 

“Well- could you at least stop telling Harry all your secrets and hiding with him in private!?”

 

“Why?!”

 

“Because I don’t like it!”

 

“Give me a good reason!”

 

“Because- I don’t want there to be any question about the legitimacy of our children!”

 

“No one in a thousand years would ever dare make such a claim against you! They know full well what you’re capable of! Give me a real reason!”

 

He sits up abruptly, “Because- because- I want that kind of bloody relationship with you! Don’t you understand that Y/N!” he erupts, his veins bulging, fists clenching the sheets. “I want to be the man you tell your secrets to! I want to be the man you look to for comfort! One day I want to look in your eyes and see something other than fear and hatred for me!”

 

He pauses and the words float in the air between you two. The look on his face is as serious as it always is, but there’s something different about it. He’s suddenly no longer a warmongering prince but just a beaten up young man looking for affection. 

 

He continues, “And- I- I don’t want to feel like I’m ripping you apart every time we try to have sex. I hate seeing that look of pain every time I have to force it in- I don’t want it to hurt anymore! I want you to enjoy it- to crave it- to crave me- Is that so wrong? Is that too much to ask for?!”

 

“...No… of course not…” you say softly. 

 

“I had such a terribly stressful day and all I wanted-“ his voice drops off as he groans with frustration. He can’t find the words for how he feels. 

 

Or he can’t find the bravery to say them out loud. 

 

“I don’t want to feel this way!” He bursts suddenly. “I feel like an idiot! I shouldn’t be this upset! I’m a prince- I should be stronger than this- I should be able to handle these things!”

 

“...Yes, you are a Prince, but you are also a young man… as much as you wish it was so- you are not immune to feeling emotions,” you say softly.  

 

A look of deep and vacant despair pulls across his face. Like any rational beast, he hates how vulnerable he feels with his underbelly exposed to a potential attacker.

 

He looks to you with a repressed desire for your love and attention. He wants your touch but is caged by his well-established pride. You feel sorry for him, it must be torturous to live stuck in your own head incapable of expressing your emotions with words. On the other hand, if he wants a proper partnership as man an wife- he will have to learn. If you make the first move of affection every time, he will never gain the ability to act on his softer emotions. 

 

You stare him with a neutral expression. If he wants your tenderness he will have to make the first step. 

 

“...Please,” He says softly, “Can’t you at least pity me for how stupid I feel? I got myself more injured today in my own palace than I did yesterday in battle- and by my own brother, no less! Does that at least elicit some sympathy from my wife?” He begins to smile. 

 

You laugh. At least that was a solid start to the tearing down that iron curtain. You reply, “You’re right… I feel very sorry that were an idiot.” A cheeky smirk comes to your face. 

 

He laughs even though it hurts his face.

 

You start to lay down again, thinking that your conversation was over  but you stop short when he calls out, “Wait!” 

 

You look at him waiting for a follow up. 

 

“May I at least get a goodnight kiss?”

 

He asked. 

 

Not commanded. For perhaps the first time, you feel like you have a real choice to reject his physical requests. For the first time realizing that will and intent was more powerful than the actions themselves. He could buy Ghita’s affection, lust and companionship- but no amount of money could buy her will. He must have finally come across this conclusion for himself. He could manipulate you with fear and title all he wanted but it would never feel the same as love with your genuine free will. 

 

You slowly lean towards him. You take time to admire all of his handsome features despite the blooming discoloration surround his right eye and the tiny scrapes. You curiously search his face for a section of skin you could kiss that wouldn’t hurt. 

 

He seems to pick up on this and chimes in, “... you know my lips don’t hurt…” and even as he says it he can’t help but laugh at himself. 

 

And in that moment, more than any time before, you feel deeply compelled to press your lips to his. His laugh is quickly silenced by the surprise of your kiss. You sprang it on him so quickly he barely had time to process what happened. You watched him sit there stunned for a moment as you lay down to sleep. 

 

You roll away from him and close your eyes. You can hear that he hasn’t moved from his seated position. “...That was such a cruel tease, you didn’t even give me a moment to react!” he says still bewildered. 

 

“I’m sorry to hear that, Tom…” you giggle a tad mischievously. 

 

He lays back down with a huff. A moment later he asks, “... But was it real?...”

 

“Yes, my dear… it was real…”


	16. Unfaithful Handmaiden

The next morning the Prince is so sore he can hardly move. He keeps barking at each innocent servant that comes knocking at the door. You roll your eyes waiting patiently at your dressing table for the Prince to get out of bed. 

 

He’s already stayed in an hour longer than usual and his appointments are waiting. Each knock more urgent and hurried than the last. 

 

“Are you planning on getting up anytime soon?” You ask trying to hide your irritation. 

 

“...Maybe…” he grumbles through a pillow. 

 

“May I please leave, your grace?” You ask as politely as you can muster. 

 

“Only if you tell them to leave me alone. I don’t want the peasants and nobles to see that I can barely walk…” 

 

“How would you know you can barely walk? You haven’t even tried!” You snap. 

 

“Princess!” He growls, “That’s enough! Now do you want to leave or not?” 

 

You sigh with annoyance and finally leave. 

 

A servant nearly bumps into you and bows promptly, “Is the Prince coming?” He asks. 

 

Quick on your feet you say, “The Prince is cancelling all of his morning appointments today. He will be in deep prayer and contemplative reflection for our empire. He asks to not be disturbed at this time. Please spread the word.” 

 

The servant bows and leaves. As you walk further down the long hall you have to shoo away the maids that wait in anticipation. “Take the morning off!” You instruct them. 

 

You enter the dining room where breakfast is laid out. The chef asks if the Prince would want food delivered to his room. Part of you is tempted to say “no” and let him go hungry for a little bit. But then you think better of it. He will only be more upset if he’s hungry. However, you can’t let anyone see that the real reason he is still in bed is because he’s injured… so you end up personally taking a cart of food back to your chambers. 

 

Tom is surprised to see you again, especially wheeling in a cart of food. 

 

“What did you tell them?” He asks immediately. 

 

“That you were praying for rain and wisdom all morning…” you say quite satisfied with yourself. 

 

You make him a tray and place it on his lap. He leans in to gratefully kiss your cheek but you pull away. 

 

“Y/n…” he mumbles confused. 

 

You make yourself a tray and sit next to him on the bed. 

 

“... Alright then… I guess we’re still working on it…” he mutters. 

 

When both of you finish eating you push the cart outside of the room. Your handmaiden was waiting patiently outside the door. Now that you think about it. She suspiciously kept herself busy elsewhere yesterday…

 

“Ahh…. there you are…” you say giving her a weary tone. 

 

Her eyes remained at her feet. She looked guilty. 

 

“Would you like to explain yourself?” You asked coldly, “Or would you rather just accept the punishment for being a disloyal handmaiden…”

 

“Princess! I’m sorry about Bartola!” She pleaded with tears in her eyes. 

 

“Why on earth did you bring me to her?! You must’ve known her clients! You assured me that she was lying!” You boomed, your voice echoing off the stone walls.  

 

“I didn’t know about the Prince! I swear it! I wouldn’t have brought you to eat had I known!” She sobbed. 

 

“SO YOU WOULD’VE LET IT STAY A SECRET? NEVER TO SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY?! YOU WOULD’VE TAKEN ME TO SOME OTHER WHORE THAT DIDN’T SLEEP WITH MY HUSBAND AND THINK NO DIFFERENTLY?!”

 

“Princess! Your voice! You must keep it down! I don’t want it to cause you any trouble!”

 

“CAUSE ME ANY TROUBLE?! Now you’re looking out for me?! TELL ME NOW- WHERE DO YOUR LOYALTIES LIE?!”

 

“To the empire! To the Throne! I swear it! I swear it upon my parents’ grave!”

 

“...Then where were you yesterday?…” you growled like low rolling thunder. 

 

“I was in town… running errands for you all day…” she said in almost a whisper. 

 

“Did those errands really take you all day? How can I trust you?” You ask trying to regain composure. 

 

“Well… admittedly… I did take my time…” 

 

“Because you knew! And you felt guilty!” You erupted.  

 

“No! No! No! It wasn’t that! Princess! Hear me out! … It’s the people… they’re very upset… it was dangerous out there- I was afraid that people would know that I came from the palace! I was so frightened!” 

 

“You’re speaking in riddles! What is going on?” You ask. 

 

“I think there is a larger scheme of revolts at play… and I think Bartola is in on it…” 

 

Your heart accelerates, “You must find out all you can about Bartola’s part in it and report it directly to me and no one else- is that clear? If you do this for me then your rations will be doubled and the throne will protect you from any backlash. But you make one wrong move and you will report directly to the Prince for punishment…” 

 

She nods and you shoo her away telling her to take the food cart with her. 

 

Disoriented by the conversation, you thoughtlessly wander back into your chambers without so much as a knock. 

 

You yelp at the sight of a completely naked Prince in front of you. 

 

“...Well, now that’s not a very flattering reaction…” he says with a disappointed sigh. 

 

Still in shock you don’t respond. You watch him… dangle… as he tries to step into is undergarments. He’s still so sore that it’s difficult for him to bend over. 

 

Eventually, he throws the undergarments to the ground in frustration. Without thinking you start to walk towards him as if entranced by the raw allure of bare skin. Even though his skin is bruised there is something still so appealing and inherently attractive about it. Smooth like water, rippling with muscle. 

 

You hadn’t really admired his full form before. Not in anything more than dim candle light.  And certainly not with the garish sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains. Never in such an objective context. Not without him twisting and writhing pressed against you. 

 

Staring at the ground he starts to stiffly limp his way back towards the bed. Your paths collide. He stops abruptly, almost running into you. 

 

You look up at him, shaking out of your hypnotic state. You feel suddenly embarrassed. What were you doing? Why did you start walking that direction? Why did you come back into the bedroom at all?

 

“Have you got something to say there, love?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you. “Or can I go back to bed now?” 

 

You just stuttered trying to think of something reasonable to say. Something other than those inexpressible emotions that are rouging your cheeks.

 

His gaze flickers from your face, down to your body and back up again. He must catch something he finds satisfying in your eyes because a small smirk peels up his face, “Unless you have something else in mind…”


	17. Daylight Views of a Chiseled God

He traces a finger gently down your arm. His hand lingers on yours but he doesn’t take it. 

 

Your eyes wander across his body as if seeing it for the first time. Behind this insurmountable madman, behind this royalty, there was ordinary flesh and blood. Each cut and bruise a reminder of his vulnerability. His mortality. Everywhere in the empire he was a myth. A legend. But you got to see behind the curtain. You got to see the man. 

 

“Why so silent?” he asks, “Why are you looking at me like that? Like you’ve never seen me before…”

 

“Because I haven’t…” you say realizing how vague you sounded. “I still feel like I really don’t know you that well… Like I’ve never seen you naked in broad daylight before...”

 

He laughs, “Well, here I am, why don’t you take a good look…”

 

The whole concept feels silly and absurd, but for almost clinical purposes you want to take him up on it. He stands still while you slowly investigate each limb and patch of skin. You make a silly show of it like you were a scientist looking for answers. At one point you grabbed his arm and turned it over. You intently trace each vein in his arm down to his fingertips, pretending that it lets you in on some profound secret about him. He laughs at your display of ridiculousness. 

 

You bend down and investigate his feet. You gasp dramatically, “Did you know that you have the feet of a caveman?”

 

“What?! I do not!” he laughs. 

 

“Then why are they rough as sandpaper?! Don’t you wear shoes?!” you tease. 

 

“Princess! I assure you- I wear shoes- It’s just- I’m just a man! And men have rough feet!” he chuckles. 

 

“Uncivilized men have rough feet!” you joke. 

 

He balances on one foot to wave the foot you were criticizing in your face. 

 

“Oh! And it’s smelly too! Keep that away from me!” you giggle. 

 

Being sore, Tom nearly falls over but he catches himself with the bedpost. 

 

“Serves you right!” you tease. 

“Anything else you are looking for down there, Princess?” he asks with a knowing smile.

 

You position yourself on your knees and make a face gazing at his limp appendage.

 

“Do you want to see a trick, my Princess?” he asks. 

 

You look up at him and nod. 

 

He offers you a hand up and you take it. Once on your feet he places his hands on your waist. He whispers softly in your ear, “You have the power to make it grow…” 

 

You tried not laugh, but when you saw his smile you couldn’t help yourself. 

 

“Hm, why don’t you give it a try?” he coos.

 

You lock onto his eyes. Staring him down daringly. You softly cup his balls and he jumps from sensitivity. 

 

“You know I think this would be easier for me if my corset wasn’t so tight…” you muse. 

 

“Oh, of course!” he smirks. He starts to rip at the lacing in the back of your dress, until you can step out of it and he tosses it to the side. He rips at your restrictive undergarments until you are stripped free of them. 

 

You take an exaggerated deep breath and he watches your breasts move, “That’s much better…” you say slyly. 

 

You move your hand to his slowly hardening member. You gently stroke it in your hand. 

 

He looks down and pretends to act surprised, “Would you look at that, Princess, its nearly twice the size!” 

 

You chuckle, “Twice the size? That’s a bit generous, don’t you think?” 

 

“Well, it looks like I still have a bit to go now, don’t I?” he says. “You know what I think would do it?” 

 

“What?” you say rolling your eyes. 

 

“A kiss…” he says flatly, but there’s a twinkle of hope in his eyes. 

 

“Oh, really?” you say with an exaggerated sigh. 

 

“But only a real one!” he added quickly. “I have no use for your fake kisses anymore… not after I’ve had a taste of the real thing.” 

 

“Let’s start off slowly then…”

 

A compromise. 

 

You lean in close until you can feel the heat radiating off of his skin. You kiss his cheek slowly and gently, savoring the feeling of stubble on your lips. You repeat the process, slowly making your way towards his lips, avoiding sore spots, each kiss along the way more tender and loving than the last. Finally, you lean in and press your lips to his. His lips part to deepen the kiss. It’s sweet and slow, much like the kiss he gave you in the garden the day he caught you in there with Sam. Sure enough, you could feel him reaching capacity in your hand. His hands dug into your hips with ardent desire but he controlled himself. He didn’t press for anything more than the kiss you were giving him. 

 

You started to pull away from his lips slowly and he didn’t try to stop you, his hands loosened their grip. You press your forehead to his and whisper against his lips, “Take me…”

 


	18. Trying to Escape the Demons of the Past

“...You are so beautiful, Y/N…” he whispers. 

 

You kiss his cheek appreciatively and he presses his hips against yours. You gasp as his hardened member slides against your tender folds. 

 

He pleasures you with hot kisses on your neck and it send chills tickling down your spine. 

 

His hands slide up and down your body, not quite reaching your bust, and you crave his grasp desperately. 

 

Your hand trails down his abdomen and he shivers at the elation. You take hold of his hardened meat and he groans with satisfaction. 

 

“Lay down, my Prince…” you whisper in his ear. 

 

He’s reluctant to give up his dominant position, but after some nibbling, moaning and begging in his ear- he couldn’t deny your wishes any longer. 

 

You get in between his legs and lick his length. Your tongue swirls around his head and he bites his lip. You take the tip into your mouth and flicker your tongue against the hole. His hands grasp at the sheets. His hands twitch, he desperately wants to push your head further down, make you take all of him in- but he refrains. He wants it to be your choice. 

 

The power you have over him starts to set in. The temptation to abuse it strengthens. 

 

You give him a doe-eyed look as you pull your mouth away from him. 

 

He grits his teeth, “Princess!” He groans with frustration. 

 

You giggle at him. You enjoy how single minded you’ve made him. You give him a look of fake confusion and shrug. 

 

He softens and whimpers, “...Please?...” 

 

You can’t say no to those brown eyes when they become pleading and soft like that. So you take him all the way in, straight to the back of your throat. You let him gag you a little but your extremely diligent not to go too far. (PSA:) You remember that if you aren’t careful you could accidentally make your breakfast reappear. You must mindful of your boundaries! 

 

You take him far in enough to cause excess salivation in your mouth.  You release all the warm thick slobber onto his member. You pull away and let your hand knead and spread the moisture as you slowly rub and twist. While your hand stimulates the main attraction, you pay a visit further south. You gently take a testicle into your mouth and give pulsating sucks. You let your tongue push and roll his skin around in your mouth before you give attention to it’s twin feature. 

 

The Prince moans at the play with his stones, “How did you know this was my favorite, princess? It’s like you read my mind!” 

 

Innocent enough question. 

 

But then you remember. 

 

You didn’t come up with this technique on your own. 

 

Bartola taught you. 

 

The whore. 

 

The one that laughed at you. 

 

The one that threatened your marriage. 

 

You are suddenly not in the mood to be playing these games anymore and you immediately pull completely away from him.  

 

Indignant and inconsolable, you begin to crawl off the bed to put your clothes back on.  

 

Tom shoots upright, and restrains you with his thick arms, “Whoa, whoa, whoa there, little princess, where do you think your going? I’m not done with you yet…” he breathes heavily into your ear. His tone was seductive not forceful but as you pushed him away the mood continued to change. 

 

He held on tighter, restraining your movement further. “What’s wrong with you?” he snapped. 

 

“Bartola,” you replied. 

 

“What about her?! Where is this coming from? I thought we fixed this issue?”

 

“Fixed? You thought that issue was ‘fixed’? You ripped the beating heart out of my chest without so much as a second thought, you savage warrior! No little talk is going to just make that completely disappear! Now let me go!” You yelled. 

 

“No! I’m not letting you go! Not until you calm down! Not until you let this go!!” He countered. 

 

He forcefully pins you onto your back and it nearly takes the breath out of your lungs. On top of you, he places himself in between your legs. His breath hot on your face, “You are mine, little princess.” His eyes searched over your face an intensity that made you look away. “Look at me when I am speaking to you!” He snapped and held your jaw firmly. 

 

Tears well up in your eyes as you imagine the moment of his betrayal. Toxic images of the your husband romping mercilessly with a whore in the sacred space of your own palace. You can’t help but imagine the way he must have kissed her, the way he must’ve moaned at the pleasure of well-adjusted interior. How much more fun she must be with all of her knowledge, practice and time spent with your Prince. You are so overwhelmed with rage and sadness that you just want to give in. You just want to go limp and give up. Let your mind leave your body and hover in the atmosphere looking down at yourself from a safe distance while he does what he wants with your empty shell. Bounce off the walls like a ghost until you are jaded, numb and knocked up. 

 

But no. No, y/n, you can’t do that. You have to stay here, in the present and keep caring. Your compassion and your emotions are what make you different from the Prince. If you don’t use your words and express what you’re feeling than you are no better than him. Even if he doesn’t listen or doesn’t understand- you have to make a case for yourself. You have to communicate in a civil manner.

 

“I can’t stop thinking about what you and Bartola must’ve done…” you confess in a low whisper. 

 

“Do you want me to give you a detailed answer?” he asked harmlessly although his weight still pinned you with immaculate pressure.

 

“Of course not!” you shouted as shards of pain stabbed your heart. 

 

“Then what do you expect me to do?”   
  


“Love me for Christ’s sake!” you swear loudly, “Is a bloody beast like you even capable of loving another?! Your own mother doesn’t even think so! And I- I have been so foolishly waiting around for something in you to change! Something that would set you apart from the animals and make you human- but every time I think I see something different- I am reminded of what you’ve done to betray me -And nothing kind you’ve done since can make up for that fact because I am still no different from any of the others! You care about me the same or less than you have for all of those whores! How am I supposed to believe you won’t do it again if I don’t believe you think more of me than the rest of them!” 

 

“Because you’re mine, Princess!” he shouts in your face, “They can belong to anyone! But you can belong only to me!”

 

“AND THAT DIDN’T STOP YOU BEFORE!” You scream.

 

“Keep your voice down,” he spits in a low angry tone. He clamps a hand over your mouth, “I’m supposed to be in contemplative prayer, remember?”

 

You bite the inner flesh of his palm and quickly rips it away, “Is that how you keep your whores silent when your fucking them right under my nose in this palace!” 

 

He puts a hand to your throat but hardly applies any pressure and terror ignites your heart. Did you poke the beast one too many times? Was he deep enough in a senseless rage to kill you and worry about losing the funding from your parents later? “No, princess, I don’t have to silence them because they don’t talk back to me!” 

 

“And you think that makes them better than me-” you start. 

 

“-NO!” he cuts you off. “I know it’s not real! I know they aren’t real! Okay?  I know that now! I know the difference!” 

 

“So you’re telling me that you’re completely done with them? Tell me the truth- if Ghita were to meander her way back into town would I catch her in our bed? Would you be able to resist believing in your falsified past and accept the reality that she was never who you thought she was?” you say curtly. 


	19. Forgive Harry

He hesitates, choking on his words. 

 

“I knew it!” you scoffed. 

 

“Princess- how could you be so mad I didn’t say anything yet!-”

 

“You didn’t have to! Your hesitation was enough!” you growl. “You’re just a soulless madman that’s incapable of loving anything more than his own fleshly desires and narcissistically- concocted fantasies!” 

 

“You haven’t given me a chance!” he yells with exasperation. 

“What?!”

 

“You said it yourself- it takes time!” he pleaded. “How could I ever learn to love you more than anything if you push me away every time we start to get close!” 

 

You are at a loss for words. 

 

His eyes soften and his voice is sincere, “How am I supposed to love you if you keep punishing me for trying?! How am I supposed to learn to love you when you keep calling me names and hating me for things I already apologized for!?”

 

You still feel angry but you can’t think of a good refutation for his argument. So instead you sass, “For a man too sore to walk- you seem just fine to tackle your prey!”

 

“The adrenaline and rush of blood work wonders for body soreness…” he replies. 

 

“Rush of blood?”

 

“Why do you think fucking and war go together so well?”

 

“What?!”

 

“And do you know how much pain I was in waiting for you a year when I was at war in the north?!”

 

“Oh, piss off! I don’t feel bad for you! -There are other ways to alleviate soreness while keeping your cock in your pants!” 

 

“Well I guess that doesn’t matter now, does it?” he says with a suspiciously sly look.

 

“What do you mean?” you ask with frustration.

 

“Because, I’m home now and I have you…” 

 

“Uh- Have you been listening to the past twenty minutes at all?!” you are bewildered at his sudden change in tone. So confident. So sure of himself. So certain that somehow he’s going to get the tail he’s been chasing. 

 

“Yes, I have… and the reason you’re so angry- the reason you are so hurt by everything- is because deep down you still love me in spite of all of it... “ he says as a grin spreads across his face. He is convinced he’s right

 

How could one man be so stupid? You want to kill him! You hate him! You want to rip his heart out!... because somehow he still holds yours. 

 

“If there’s one thing that’s been consistent through our time together… it’s that you always rub my shoulders when I’m sore…” he laughs softly. “And that’s how I know I’ll never have to be sore when I’m home with you.” 

 

Your anger was slowly melting away and Tom already knows he won over your heart. 

 

He relaxes his grip on you, knowing you very well won’t run away from him now. Instead you wrap your arms around his neck affectionately. He leans in slowly to kiss you and you meet him eagerly with a tender and deep kiss. 

 

“You are more beautiful to me than all of them combined…” he reassures you in a whisper against your lips. 

 

You prevent him from speaking further by kissing him again and shoving your tongue in his mouth. You exchange passionate, sloppy wet kisses until you make up for all the shouting, anger and hate you poured out on each other.

 

He pulls away to whisper sweetly in your ear, “Do you want to try again?... I know you want to be the mother of the next Prince… and there’s only one way to do it,” he laughs. 

 

You peck his cheek in response and guide his member to your opening. He slips in with ease and kisses your forehead excitedly. He looks deep into your eyes, “I’ll be gentle, my dear,” he reassures as he slowly starts to pump into you. His biceps bulge as he holds himself above you. He can’t hide the idiot grin on his face. 

 

You gasp at the sensation as he begins to settle into a rhythm and he finds an angle that makes everything feel so much better. You start to moan, craving more friction, more of hitting that spot, more of your Prince. 

 

“Now don’t go around making noises that aren’t real, darling…” he says suspiciously. 

 

“This is real- I swear!” you rasp. “Tom, this is incredible!”

 

Something of pride swells in his chest and his eyes fill with a mushy look of joy. 

 

Then the doors to the bedroom bursts open. 

 

It’s Harry. 

 

“OH BLOODY HELL!” he screams.


	20. Devil Incarnate

“HARRY!” the Prince growls.

 

With the fear of God, Harry exits the room hastily. The Prince is furious, quickly pulling out and throwing on some clothes before he limps out of the room. Feeling flushed with embarrassment you redress in the most modest outfit you can find. 

 

Hopefully, Harry couldn’t see much of you with the Prince on top! Why would Harry rush in like that with not even a knock? That was so rude!

 

Your loins feel achy and uncomfortable. It was so cruel to have been so unceremoniously interrupted. Your body was angry for being tricked. All the built up tension inside dissipated without a satisfactory release. 

 

You run off to find the Prince and his brother. You hoped desperately that the Prince did not punish Harry for his honest mistake. 

 

You ask all the servants about the Prince’s whereabouts but no one seems to know his location. You search in all the usual places and he is still nowhere to be found. Your heart starts to thud louder in your chest. What was he up to?

 

Finally, you come to the conclusion that they must’ve recoiled to the secret strategy room. Perhaps another coup attack was underway? It was most likely a war related crisis which was technically no business for a lady like yourself. However, you couldn’t help but feel an unresolved tension for your Prince. You’d follow up with him under the guise of making sure everything was alright when in reality you were hoping that your presence would incite him to finish what he started. 

 

You reach the room- AND KNOCK- because you’re civilized. You hear a muffled clanking and calamity behind the door followed by hushed angry voice. And. A woman’s voice. 

 

You knock on the door more urgently, your face feeling hot, your corset suddenly too tight. Harry opens the door. Poor Harry. You finally get a proper look at him. He’s all beat up from the night before as well. 

 

But something even more concerning at the moment is the look in his eyes. There is an uneasiness to them. He gives you a half smile that screams of pity. You don’t like where this is going.

 

He lets you into the room. The Prince sits slumped in a chair hands to on his face. 

 

Across the room was a woman. She was sight to be envied. Her long blonde hair was delicately braided and laced with ribbons. Her dress was plan and of poor material but it clung to her tiny waist perfectly. Her long fingers were elegant and she exuded a grace that was well above her social class. She knew she was important. A quick read of the situation would confirmed that she was in a posture suggesting she had the upper hand. 

 

You didn’t really want to ask but the silence was stretching closer to eternity. 

 

“What on Earth is happening?” you plead. 

 

“Princess,” Harry sighs heavily stepping up from behind you to place a hand on your shoulder. “This is Ghita.”


	21. Explain Yourself

“Oh-” your heart dropped right out of your chest. “Should I leave you three alone?” There was an unmistakable edge of hurt in your voice.

 

“Maybe that’d be best, Princess,” Tom suggested rubbing his eyes with heels of his palms. 

 

His words hurt like sparks crackling off a fire. Your heart feels exhausted from all of the flipping and flopping it’s been through lately. 

 

“No!” you dig in, “No, more secrets! Whatever is happening here will happen right in front of me!” 

 

“That’s sounds just fine to me,” Ghita said plainly. 

 

You could kill her. Her existence. Her beauty. The way her mere presence could turn the tides of your relationship with your husband. She was a threat to your well-being. A threat to your security. Certainly, princes have had mistresses before, but this was different. She threatened to win his heart.

 

And worst of all was that he knows better now. 

 

A thought creeps into your mind. You recall how the Prince removed his threats to the throne… Was that a logical path for you to follow? Was it moral? Did it matter, if morality was already out the window? Would two wrongs make a right? Horrible thoughts swim into your mind and you start to revel in the dark fantasies. However, you must pull them back. There has to be another way! There just has to be!

 

“Where did she come from? I thought she was in hiding, fearing for her life or something?” you ask Harry quietly.

 

“I can hear you, Princess. If you have a question, you are welcome to ask it too my face. I may be a low born commoner, but I do, in fact, possess the ability to speak for myself,” she said with a practiced emotionless tone. 

 

“Why are you here?” you ask.

 

“I have come to see my Prince,” she replies with a bow.

 

“After several years of hiding? Why? Why now? He’s a married man,” you try to keep your tone calm and uninterested. You don’t want to let her know how threatened you feel by her arrival. 

 

“I ran away to give him time to cool off. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that he has a warrior’s heart. I would’ve come sooner but I heard he was away at war. I started my journey as soon as I heard the news that he was coming home. I’ve been waiting all this time to tell him that he misunderstood the situation. It was all a miscommunication…” she looked towards the Prince batting her eyelashes and blushing. “I’ve missed him so much…” she swooned. He looked to her but avoided her eyes. He was conflicted at his core. 

 

Your blood started to boil. There is no way she could earn herself back into his good graces with a few well rehearsed lies. Surely, her hex would have worn off by virtue of time. Certainly, he remembers that she is con artist through and through, that whatever lies she came here to feed him were all just traps. There was no way he could possibly be that stupid. 

 

The Prince presses his fingers to his temples as if to suppress a migraine, “I guess… I should give you the right to explain yourself…” he concedes. 

 

Of course. The Prince has finally learned that problems can be solved through communication. Except now, he’ll give any snake charmer the right tools to fool his gullible soul. 

 

“It was all Bartola’s doing!” she pleads. She breaks down to her knees for a flare of drama. “Please believe me! She told me that you wanted me to service that nobleman! She told me that you wanted me to show him a good time- to not let you down!”

 

“Lies!” he growls. “Why would you ever believe such a heinous thing?! If I were to believe you, I’d also have to believe that you are the most feeble-minded woman in the whole empire!”

 

“...Maybe she is…” Harry sasses to you through his teeth. God bless that man.

 

“Just listen! Please, Tom-” she starts. 

 

“It’s ‘Your Grace’ to you, hussy!” he roars. The veins in his forehead bulging and sweat gathers on his brow.

 

“Your Grace!” she corrects herself, “Please, you must believe me! How could Bartola have possibly made the mistake of walking into the wrong room? She’s been working at that brothel longer than I have!”

 

“Then why’d she disappear with you? If you weren’t possibly in on it too?!” he shouts. 

 

“Because- Because- she didn’t want to watch you k-k-k-kill me!” she stuttered. Her eyes reflected a look you must’ve given Tom a million times since he’s come home. 

 

The Prince groaned angrily and slapped the arm of his chair. His mind must’ve been tossing and twirling with all the contradictions.

 

“Please! Your Grace! You must believe me! Don’t throw away what we had over an honest mistake! Please!” Now, she broke down to her hands and knees. She slowly starts crawling towards the Prince’s chair as she continues, “You must know that I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you!”

 

She pursues with another scrape across the stone floor, “I would never disobey you!”

 

Her eyes head bowed low, “I would never contradict the words of my Prince!”

 

Her perfect hair nearly brushes the filthy ground, “I am a humble and loyal servant to your cause!” 

 

When she gets close enough she picks her head up to try to meet the Prince’s downcast stare. He sticks his foot out and presses his boot against her forehead, preventing her from coming any closer. 

 

“I’ve heard enough…” he grumbles.  

  
  



	22. Waste of Time

“Harry, escort this viper to the dungeon… I want her executed tomorrow morning,” Tom says in a calm, calculated tone. 

 

“Your Highness! PLEASE!” she begins to sob. Her face drops to the stone floor. She wails for all she’s worth. 

 

A sick uptick of joy arises in your mind. Something about watching her beg and plead for her life at the feet of your husband gives you a dark sense of pleasure.

 

But then your moral compass starts to prick at the back of your mind. Damn that conscience of yours. 

 

“Wait!” you say before you can second guess yourself, “Let’s not jump to conclusions quite yet! … She might be telling the truth…” 

 

“What?!” The Prince shouted at you. “I thought you of all people would be pleased by this decision… Please- don’t make this any harder than it has to be…”

 

Ghita’s lifted her face from the floor with a sniffle, “I knew it…” she whimpered softly, “I knew you still loved me…” 

 

He shot her a sharp glare, “It’s always an unsavory decision when it comes to ending a life- don’t flatter yourself, trollop!”

 

“I’m not saying she’s innocent,” you start, “I just received information early that may corroborate her claim… So by all means- send her to the dungeon! But hold off on the execution until we know for certain that we can’t get any more information out of her.” 

 

“I like your thinking, Princess,” Harry says with a nod. 

 

Tom grunts with frustration. But gestures for Harry to take away the weeping willow of a woman that was on the floor in front of him. 

 

When the door shuts, the Prince grabs you roughly by the shoulders and pushes you up against the wall. You let out an involuntary gasp. Are you in trouble?

 

Then you see a smile curl on his lips, as he looks down at you.

 

“So- the information-” you stutter. “Earlier- this morning- when I left our chambers- my hand maiden-”

 

Tom shuts you up with a hard kiss to your mouth. At first the shock makes you stiffen, but he holds the contact until you soften into his lips. 

 

He pulls away, and rests his forehead against yours, “Strategy- can wait. The Empire- can wait.”

 

His hands move to your waist, digging his fingers in. “Now why on earth are you dressed?” he challenged with a click of his tongue. “I believe I left you where I wanted you… naked on our bed… I must say I am very disappointed in you…”

 

For a moment, you questioned if he was serious, and you looked down at yourself. He lifted your chin with a finger and you found a smirk lighten his face. 

 

“I don’t believe you told me to stay,” you counter, “And if you did… I’m not so sure I would’ve listened…” 

 

“Naughty, little princess…” he smiles. 

 

“So… Your Grace… how do you feel?” you ask with sly glance.

 

He starts to tug at the collar of your dress, “I feel like I need a more efficient way to take this dress off…”

 

“No, I mean about finding Ghita… after all these years.. How do you feel?”

 

“Like I wasted my time…”

 

Good. That’s what you wanted to hear. 

  
  



	23. A Princess's Plan

The Prince starts to nibble your ear and a soft gasp escapes your lips. His hands cup your breasts as you feel a surge excitement emanate from your under your undergarments. 

 

“Dearest Prince,” you whisper into his ear. “I think I know how to find out if Ghita is telling the truth… Although… I’m afraid it’s a little uncouth…” 

 

“Darling, there is plenty of time for strategizing later… right now- I must have you!” His fingers grip at the high collar of your dress. 

 

He presses his lips to yours and your heart skips a beat almost painfully. You pull away to catch a breath, “If she really came back because of her feelings for you it would destroy her to make her watch you love me- if she’s a spy- she won’t care!” you say before losing the courage to propose such a wild and heinous idea. 

 

The Prince’s face froze in shock. He couldn’t believe his own large ears as he fumbled at a response, “Princess… did you really just say what I think you said?” 

 

“Yes,” you say blushing and scrunching your face with shame. 

 

“And you would be willing to shed your decency like that?” he said still flabbergasted. 

 

“If we get the information we need and she dies the next morning… and no one ever finds out… then I don’t see a reason why we should be embarrassed,” you say shakily. “Plus… we don’t need to go all out. Perhaps, just some hand holding and long meaningful glances…”

 

He hooks a hand around your waist, “Darling, she’s a whore… I doubt she’ll be put off by a little hand holding…” 

 

“If she really loves you like she says… I’ll be able to tell. A woman can always spot another jealous woman from a mile away. Anyway, we can have her killed in the morning if you take things a bit too far.”

 

“Oh,” he said raising both eyebrows, “So, now you are on board with a morning execution?”

 

“As long as we get the all information we need out of her… I don’t see use in her sticking around.”

 

“But what if she’s not a spy? What if it turns out that she really has loved me all these years. And she’s just a silly mistaken little commoner girl that fell in love with a prince…”

 

“Even more reason for her to die…” you challenged Tom with a devilish gaze, “We must eliminate all threats to the throne- should we not? And even if she really does love you… she still knows something…” 

 

***

 

In the dungeon, the Prince commands the guards to wait outside the steel door of the prison hall. The guards gave the Prince a curious look as he took you inside with him for “interrogation”. This certainly wasn’t a matter for a princess. Their eyebrows raised with curiosity but the Prince shut down their speculations with an icy stare. 

 

The whole row of cells were empty. The Prince had executed all his prisoners even before he executed the conspiratory noblemen and their families. You almost forgot all about that morning when you first saw a glimpse of your husband’s desire to remain seated on the throne. It turns out that he was right- getting all the executions over with in one morning made the news and horrific memory fade a lot faster. 

 

Ghita was the only current prisoner and she was residing in the cell at the end of hall. Steel bars caged her like an animal. The only light that sifted in was from a small barred window near the top of the wall. Not low enough for her to even see out of. 

 

The stone floors and walls held their chill. They were blackened with soot, unlike the rest of the palace stones. Why would the maids bother to clear the execution row cells? It for the same reason the King’s hand doesn’t bother to wipe the axe of blood in between killing blows. 

 

Ghita is chained to the walls of her cell and she’s weeping. When she lifts up her head and spies the Prince she moves towards him all that the chains will allow her. Pulling the clanking metal taut, she cries out, “My Prince! My handsome Prince, please! I will forever be your loyal and humble servant! Please! You don’t have to do this!”

 

He smirks, “I love listening to you beg for your life. I could listen to it all night. It would lull me into precious slumber like the sweet tune of a lullaby.”

 

You place your hand softly on the forearm of your Prince. His calloused, weapon-bearing hand rests gently on yours and his gaze trails up your arm to the neckline of your dress. His eyes catch on the baby pink ribbon that laced up the back of your dress. There is a flicker of thirst in those warm brown eyes. 

 

You clear your throat purposefully, and he shakes out of his daze. To Ghita he asks, “So you came here because you love me?” 

 

“Yes, my Prince! Of course! I love you with all that I am- all that I will be!” she responds desperately. 

 

“If you love me so much… would you share me?” he asks and puts on his best smolder. 

 

“Share? Of course, Your Grace! I’d do anything you want! And I’d do it twice!”

 

“What about my wife?” he asks, “Could you two play fair with each other?” Tom looks between you and Ghita. When his eyes meet yours, you give him a sharp glare. This is not where you were expecting him to take the interrogation. Could he be proposing what you think he is proposing? It would be an unspeakable sin…

 

The Prince responds to your heated glare with an inconspicuous tapping of his index finger on your hand. It’s another coded message- “play along”.  

 

“Oh, of course, Your Highness! As long as I am yours, you can have me anyway you like!” Ghita wails out. 

 

Tom quickly turns to you, “I don’t know, darling- what do you think? Does this interest you? Do you think we can trust her with this little secret?”

 

Ghita cries out for attention, “Of course you can trust me, my Prince! I have traversed the great landscape to come back to you! Even amidst famine!”

 

The Prince’s eyes remained trained on you. He was awaiting your response. “Perhaps we should put this trust to the test…” you feigned. 

 

You gently placed a hand on his cheek and his arm curled around your waist pulling you into him. His fingers tangled into the ribbon lacing of your bodice. He leered down at you with a ferver, mad with passion- as if you two were alone. 

 

His lips felt hot as they pressed to yours… or perhaps they just felt hot in comparison with the chills running down your spine and the chilly stones of your surrounding. 

 

He pushed his hips into yours with great pressure. As he deepened the kiss, you could feel his member growing against you. Rising to the occasion.  

 

You could hear Ghita clear her throat, as if a stone were caught in it, “My Prince…” she choked. She was trying to divert his attention. But Tom kept kissing you. His hand crept up to your ribs and you desperately ached for him to continue moving his hand further up but he remained cautious. 

 

You moaned seductively in his mouth and his hand moved up to clutch your breast. 

 

“Prince!” Ghita cried out, “Perhaps you could let me remind you of my love!” there was an edge of desperation in her voice, “Please!”

 

The Prince grabbed your hand with an affectionate squeeze and moved it down to the protruding lump in his pants. He guided you to take hold, which you did graciously and you broke away from his lips to look down bashfully at what you had done to him. 

He showered your cheek with tender little kisses that made you giggle. 

 

“My Prince! Please! Don’t do this- not without me!” she whines. 

 

Precisely. 

  
  



	24. The Prince Bends the Knee for the Best Reason

Next- the Prince does the unthinkable. 

 

He kneels before you. 

 

A prince never kneels before his princess!

 

His soft brown eyes twinkle as they look up at you. A laughter-filled comes to his face. He wiggles his eyebrows at you. 

 

You give him a confused look. 

 

Then he lifts up your skirt and crawls underneath allowing the fabric to go slack behind his back. 

 

You can’t help but let out a giggle. Why was he being so silly-

 

Then-

 

You felt him pull at your undergarments and you gasped loudly. 

 

You could feel him kiss you. Kiss you in the most unthinkable place. The sensation of his warm lips against your cool, recently moistened skin causes you to make involuntary noises.

 

Ghita growls in the background, fuming from her failed attempts to catch the Prince’s attention, “You’ve never done that for me!” she shrieks. 

 

You can feel Tom smile against your inner thigh and it tickles you in the best way. You stumble back a little. Your face red. Your lungs filled with a giddy air and your mind in an insatiable tizzy. 

 

“My dear! Don’t fall!” Tom laughs still beneath your skirt. You lean into the contact of his lips as he continues to explore every mountain and wave of your lower regions with his tongue. 

 

The growing tingling sensation intensifies in your groin. 

 

“Thomas! I’m too nervous! Please have mercy on me!” you cry out in a high-pitched tone. 

 

He places one last firm kiss in a place that sends a shock wave of tantalizing pleasure through your core.

He bows out from beneath your skirt, flashing you that handsome smile. 

 

As he stands you eye that tent in his knickers. You gravitate towards him as he stands up. Your eyes fixed on his. Your hands cup around his neck, “My handsome love, can I do anything in return?” you are sure to bat your eyelashes and pout your lips. 

 

His hands rub up and down your waist as your body makes contact with his, “Of course my darling…” 

 

He leans his back up against the bars of Ghita’s cell so that she can’t see his goods as he pulls them out of his knickers for you. Your perfect, pretty dress scrapes the dirty stone floor as you fall to your knees in front of Tom. You give him those innocent doe-like eyes that he likes so much when you yield to pleasuring him. 

 

He likes it when you’re docile but unafraid. Innocent with a touch of cheeky. Obstinate but for his only for his betterment. You were a challenge. A partner. A bed mate. Now a co-conspirator. Perhaps someday a lover. 

 

You press a kiss to his tender tip. He shutters at the gentle brush of your soft lips. You flicker your tongue where the gland meets the shaft. You start to gently suck and kiss your way down to his base. 

 

“My darling, Y/n, if you don’t mind- I’D LOVE FOR YOU TO STOP TEASING ME!” he says desperately through clenched teeth. 

 

“As you wish, my love!” you say gleefully. 

 

You take him into your mouth. Your tongue pressed firm against him. He grips the bars behind him for stability. He moans loudly. As you suck, your tongue massages his skin. You keep your hand at his base to keep him steady and slowly twist him up into your mouth. Your mouth fills with saliva which you empty onto him to glide him in and out easier. He grunts and starts to buck his hips with pleasure. 

 

The sound of Ghita’s pleads for you two to stop only added to your ardent passion in the task at hand (and mouth) and consequently your husband’s pleasure. 

 

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Tom cries out tapping on your shoulder. “We shouldn’t waste this precious seed, my dear… I ought to put it to use!”

 

“Bartola is part of the uprising! That’s all I know!” Ghita cries out, “The people, Tom, they fear you but their faith in the republic is stronger!” She collapses. Defeated. 

 

You and Tom exchange a knowing look but do not acknowledge Ghita’s final plea. 

 

As elegantly as possible, you dab the slobber from the corners of your lips.

 

Tom shoves himself back into his knickers then lifts your chin with his fingers.

 

You look up into those mischievous eyes and he says, “Why don’t we take this back to our chambers where we can be more comfortable,  hm?” 

  
  



	25. With All My Heart

“Of course, my love, that sounds wonderful!” you say cheerfully. You absorbed the information you wanted, the least you could do was spare her from the main event. Death the next morning was punishment enough. Plus the floors were filthy and nowhere near as comfortable as the bed in your chambers.

 

He helps you back to your feet and brushes the loose dirt from the skirt of your dress. He grabs you tight for one last sultry kiss before you leave the prison hall. You take a quick glance over at Ghita who has wilted like dying weed. How fitting. 

 

Tom gave you his arm to escort you out. When you passed by the guards, Tom looked at one of them and swiped a finger under his throat, gesturing an execution, “First thing in the morning, alright?”

 

The guard bowed in acknowledgement. 

 

***

 

Once in the chambers, Tom couldn’t keep his hands off of you, “Such a naughty, naughty, little princess,” he grumbled into your ear. “You were torturing me down there!”

 

You giggled as you held onto his neck and he fussed with the ribbon behind your neck. He was struggling until he eventually whispered sweetly in your ear, “Don’t move, darling,” and you gasped as you heard the swift rip of ribbon and the bodice immediately loosened. You were surprised to see that he had cut through the ribbon with the knife he kept at his side. When he sees your look of terror he chuckles, “It’s alright, my darling, I knew I wasn’t going to hurt you!”

 

You can’t help but respond to his laughter with a rewarding smooch on the lips. Balancing on your toes, you crash into him.

 

He helps you remove all your clothes and you do the same for him. Soon you are both as naked as the day you were born. 

 

He picks you up and you wrap your legs around him as he carries you to the bed. He lays you down gently, adjusting the pillows. He was suddenly such an absurdly different creature. More careful. Methodical. 

 

“My lovely, little, temptress…” he coos in your ear. 

 

“That thing you did- the thing with your lips- and tongue- and-” you stutter. 

 

“I know, my love, I know… I never knew that giving could be so rewarding… and arousing,” he whispered seductively. 

 

You could feel his tip eagerly waiting at your entrance. 

 

“Are you waiting for a formal invitation?” you sass with a sardonic smile. 

 

He pushes into you slowly. 

 

He kisses and sucks the skin of your breasts as he waits for you to relax a little more. 

 

He begins to rock slowly, his might makes the bed move with him. 

 

You start to let go into the tempo. Your hips moving into his. You looks down at you with a soft expression. One of admiration and perhaps curiosity.

 

As he starts to speed up, the tension grows in your core, you allow yourself to give into the primal noises your body instinctively wants to make. Tom follows suit with grunts of his effort. His eyes never stray from yours. 

 

Your hands move to his hips. And out of pure desire for discovery, your hands roam to his ass. He eyes you curiously but a smile comes to his face. 

 

“Look at how mighty you are, even your bum is muscular!” you laugh and he joins you with a chuckle. 

 

Exploring further as he continues to thrust, you suddenly find your pinky to be lost in a place that you cannot conceptualize. Tom’s eyes widen immediately and the noise that spills out is, “OooOOp!”

 

“Tom, darling, I am so sorry!” you cry out apologetically. 

 

“... don’t be, my dearest… that was quite- nice?” he says confused and conflicted with his own desires. 

 

“Would you like me to try it again?” you ask shyly. 

 

“Only if this stays between us…” he says sternly. 

 

You kiss his cheek tenderly, “Tom, you can trust me with all your heart, my love.”

 

This time you feel a bit bolder. You take your middle finger and suck on it, like you would his member. His eyes bulge at the sexy show you make of it. Then you reach behind him and plunge your middle finger into the depth of his dark abyss. It caused the taut skin to expand and make way for your digit. Tom’s eyes closed as he let out a moan. You imitated the Prince by moving your finger in and out. 

 

Tom held you steady in his hands and slowly continued pump into you, “Please, whatever you do- no one hears about this! Especially any descendants of Vikings!- I’d be made a fool of!”

 

“Tom, in here, behind these walls, everything stays between you and me. We are a team. I will not betray your trust.” 

 

He kisses you deeply, in grateful response. 

 

He taps your arm, gesturing for you to remove your finger. You instinctively feel the urge to wipe your finger on the sheets. 

 

Tom begins to pump faster. His leneth seemed to be ringing a bell inside of you with left you with a an indescribably sensation in your groin. You gripped onto your husbands back. He clenched his teeth as short panting breaths escaped. His well-groomed curls flopped wildly across his face. You could feel his back begin to sweat, from the effort he put forth. You were so elated that he found that special angle. The one that felt so glorious. So full. So special.

 

You can’t help tighten your grip on him. You cry out compliments that go straight to his head… but he deserves every single one of them. 

 

He chants back, “My beautiful, princess- you belong only to me…”

 

You start to call out his name as he presses a thumb to your special button and your body brims and ripples with a euphoric sensation. You feel yourself pulsate on his cock and he groans into an eruptive and noisy explosion. 

 

You feel your insides warmed and wet with his seed. When he pulls out he lifts your hips into the air. 

 

“Let’s not let anything spill out quite so fast,” he chuckles with a playful wink. 

 

It makes you giggle and he kisses your extra sensitive area and you yip with surprise. 

 

He puts your hips down and you tackle him with an embrace. You were once so shy being naked around him but now you couldn’t get enough. You hold onto him tightly as he lays on his back. 

 

He growls playfully into your ear and kisses it. Then he whispers like a prayer, “I love you, y/n… with all my heart….” 

  
  



	26. A Dull Blade Leaves Scars

The next morning, you both arise to witness the execution of Ghita. You remind, Tom to remain strong and firm of face as he witnesses the atrocity. A show of any pity would be a victory for her.

 

You revisit the dungeons. You take care to lift the edge of your skirt so it doesn’t drag on the sooty floor. Tom holds you steady with his arm. 

 

“Be strong, my love,” you whisper encouragingly. 

 

Battle axe, taken from its mount. He long, silky blonde braid, pushed aside. Her tears make wet spots on the stone beneath her. 

 

Helplessly, she pleads for her life. They are all frivolously prayers and pleads of a woman who is already dead. 

 

Her shrill voice echos off the cell walls. A haunting tone that Tom will most definitely hear in his nightmares tonight.   

His jaw set tight. She cries out her “love” for him. He twitches and stifles a wince. A knee jerk reaction from a past life where he believed her. 

 

The executioner raises the axe. You hold your breath. You can handle this. You’ve seen it plenty of times before. What’s once more?

 

The sickening sound of a squelched scream and metal striking bone. Blood splatters loudly against the stone. It wasn’t a clean. 

 

He winds up again to finish the job. Finally, her disembodied skull crashes to the ground as a pool of blood gushes forth. 

 

“May God rest her soul…” you murmur quietly with a wavering breath. 

 

Tom’s eyes are red and filling rapidly. You can hear a wheeze in his lungs as he takes a deep breath. 

 

“Prince, may a steal you away for a moment? I know you’re awfully busy, but it’s quite important…” you say quickly. 

 

“Oh, of course, my princess. Anything to make you happy…” he barely keeps his voice from breaking. 

 

You rush him outside to the gardens. You take him right into the hedge maze. Once inside the privacy of the plants he lets out deep sob that he was holding in. It’s unapologetic vigor surprises you. 

 

You quickly turn to him and wrap your arms around his neck. His arms wrap tight around your waist as he cries into your shoulder. 

 

“I’m so sorry, darling…” you whisper in his ear. 

 

He shakes from the sobs that spring forth. 

 

“...I will be here for you…” you remind him. You gently stroke the hair at the name of his neck. You hum to him softly. 

 

An hour or so passes before he composes himself enough to finish the walk through the maze. He holds his arm out for you as usual. But this time it is you that keeps him steady. 

 

The day carries on like any other although a shadow seems to loom of the Prince of the palace. It’s not that he still loved that whore but rather mourning a memory of what he once thought was love. You felt sympathy for him, yet at the same time felt a vain pang of jealousy. 

 

You had to remind yourself that she paid the ultimate price while you received the Prince’s trust and love as a reward. 

 

You kept the Queen company as she had her evening tea. The King was getting worse every day and felt responsible for keeping her mind off the topic. Instead, you talked about the scandalous visitor that arrived last night and was executed this morning. She commended you on your composure through the brief scandal. Complimenting your silence to your parents about the infidelity. The palace was sealed off from the rumor mill with the threat of death. None of the commoners shall hear of it. Only a whisper that a whore they used to know was dead. 

 

But fear still struck your heart. There is one person who could still tell the truth. Someone who would easily put the pieces together. Someone who’s name kept coming up:  Bartola. 

 

You shoved the fear back down your throat quickly. Now was not the time to get flustered with conspiracy theories. 

 

The Queen asked if you had forgiven your husband. If you would still receive him lovingly in your bed. You assured her that you would. That you had committed your life to this Empire and its future heirs. You couldn’t afford to get hung up on his silly little indiscretions.

 

She asked if he had shown kindness to you. It made you realize just how far the Prince has come. Your efforts to break through to him were worth it. 

 

After dinner, Tom wanders outside of the palace. He shoos away any of the help that attempts to follow him. You grow insatiably curious as to where he could be going so late at night. You decide to follow him at a distance. 

 

The night air cool and breezy against your skin you risk a chill without your coat. Tom’s lantern shines bright from across the dark palace lawn. Of course you couldn’t bring your own lantern along… it would surely give you away. You had no choice but to follow the light like a beacon until your eyes adjusted. 

 

He wandered along strange paths. Lanes lined with groves of trees that you rarely have use to pass. 

 

But then you spot two lit posts beside enormous double doors and it all makes sense. The stables. He wanted to be among his silent, non-judgemental, furry friends. 

 

At this point, you feel conflicted. Why did you follow him out here? Did you really go to make sure he was alright? Or were you afraid that he would suddenly betray you again in a fit of sadness and rage? Now that you know he just wanted to visit the horses, you feel bad that you followed him out here when he really just desired to be alone. On the other hand, you were a bit frightened to walk back to the palace in the dark by yourself. It wasn’t so scary when Tom was within screaming distance. But suddenly the thought of a wild animal snatching you up in the dark pressed more ominously on your mind. 

 

Tom opens the barn door and slips in side. You hear a rustle in the bushes. Making an apology for stalking him suddenly becomes the clear option. 

 

Following several steps behind, you walk in to find Tom in front of Ivan’s stall. He’s rubbing the creature’s broad nose and whispering to him softly. 

 

He spots you in the corner of his eye as you make an entrance. His true attention, however,  never leaves Ivan.

 

You start walking towards him. Your footsteps echo in the vacant air. 

 

“Spying on me, Princess?” he grumbles, “I can’t have a moment alone?”

 

“I-I’m sorry, Prince… I didn’t mean to interrupt you… I was just worried about you....” you answer softly. 

 

“Worried about me or worried for yourself?” he asking raising an eyebrow, although still facing Ivan. 

 

Ivan pokes his nose in your direction, no doubt looking for a treat. You hold your hand out flat for him and his lips flap against your empty palm. 

 

“Now- don’t tease him like that…” Tom huffs. Ivan turns back to Tom, disappointed in your lack of food. Tom reaches for a carrot in his pocket and breaks off a piece for his handsome steed. Ivan gobbles it up graciously and Tom gives the side of his neck a reassuring pat. 

 

“Are you upset with me?” you ask cautiously. How much did you offend him by following him to his happy place?

 

“...No…” he says almost inaudibly. The hollow look in his brown eyes are frightening as if his mind was roaming among the stars and only his body was present on earth. 

 

You reach out to brush his cheek with the back of your hand and his skin feels cold to the touch. 

 

“Darling, tell me what’s going on in that big beautiful mind of yours…” you say gently. 

 

“I don’t know, love… Everything’s falling apart and this morning may have been the final thread. And I’m sure you heard that my father’s getting worse…” 

 

“Your mother told me, Tom, I am so deeply sorry…”

 

“I just can’t take all of this right now!” he shouts angrily. Ivan thrusts his head in the air with surprise. “I’m not angry at you, big fella,” he reassures the beast and gives him a loving pat. His voice is a soft, with guttural frustration as he continues, “I just want to hop on my horse and disappear into the night. Ride away without a second thought or care. Let loose from all of my grief and responsibility… I must sound crazy to you-”

 

“No! Not at all, my love! I understand the feeling completely… but you can’t just abandon your Empire and especially not in this state…” you say mournfully. 

 

A devilishly handsome smile creeps up his face as an idea dawns on him, “We can’t escape forever… but we can for a night….”

  
  



	27. A Night Time Ride With a Moody Prince

“What!? You can’t be serious!” You exclaim. 

 

But he was serious. Serious as the pope.

 

He took you into the stable-hand’s quarters where you found spare clothes. He convinced you to disguise yourself as a man complete with a hat and trousers. You insisted that your womanly figure was still distinct. You were drowning in the oversized clothes. You felt bare outside of your bedroom without a corset. The prince insisted that the corset would give you away more than your pronounced breasts. You give him a doubtful glance. 

 

“The crown is not so popular right now my dear…being found out could elicit an angry mob…” he says. 

 

“But you’d protect me right?” You ask, suddenly feeling the clenches of fear grip around your throat. 

 

He shrugs, “As much as I could- but even I can’t face an entire town by myself.” 

 

You gulp audibly. You’re about to think of some excuse to run back to the palace when he draws closer to you and whispers, “Or perhaps I just want less in my way…” His eyes saunter across your form with desire. 

 

The breath of his whisper gives you chills. Your nipples become erect. His fingers gently trace them creating the most tantalizing sensation. Bound by his spell you lean in for a kiss. But he smirks and pulls away at the last second. 

 

“No time for that now, my dear. Adventure awaits!” he says with a chuckle. 

 

Both of you in pauper’s clothes. You’d be harder to identify. You’d blend right in. The king’s stable help out to exercise their favorite horses. Hardly unusual. 

 

You were weary about your riding capabilities but Tom insisted that you try riding by yourself. He saddled up that pretty little paint mare that he declared yours the last time you came around. He tacked up his steed, Ivan. 

 

The two of you set off to town in the moonlight. 

 

The vineyards and the olive groves looked much different from this perspective. The fields that distanced you from the rest of the world now seemed your rightful domain. Ivan nickered joyously when he saw your mare, Mila. 

 

A name Tom explained to you was a term of endearment in Russian. It meant ‘love’. Who had ever heard such an exotic language?

 

Your prince seemed to be so worldly and knowledgeable in that moment. He’s seen things you couldn’t even imagine. While your life was comfortable and desirable by all means- it lacked excitement. Curiosity. Spontaneity. 

 

Your horses walked side by side. Your little mare seemed eager to impress the impressive Ivan. You didn’t realize it was possible for a horse to strut so fancifully. 

 

The more you ride your horse the more you learned about her. She was timid but smart. Passionate and show-off. You never thought such a creature could be so complex. Yet, in the quiet of nights you seemed to be more receptive to your surroundings. To nature. 

 

Your Prince, on the other hand, seemed to get more and more distant. As if the wide open space was sapping at his soul, spreading him thin across each border of his empire. Perhaps a midnight ride was not the therapy he needed. Perhaps it allowed his mind to wander and worry too much. You attempt to gauge his mood with some conversation.  

 

“Do you think Ivan loves Mila?” you ask the Prince curiously. 

 

“Well, I don’t know, darling… I suppose your guess is as good as mine…” he gruffed. His head was elsewhere. Floating among the clouds that appeared as they drifted past the garish moonlight. “In the wild, Ivan would have his own harem. If he is capable of loving Mila- I don’t imagine she’d be the only one. It’s not in his nature.”

 

You combed your fingers through a small white patch in your horse’s mane. You were sympathetic. 

 

“Where are we going, my Prince?” you ask softly. 

 

“To town... “ he murmurs back. 

 

“And what will we do once we get there?”

 

“I don’t know…” his voice was faraway. 

 

“Go to a brothel?” You joked. 

He shot you a warning glare. 

 

You didn’t back down, “what? I heard there are a few men there too…” 

 

“You will never know such things for yourself!” He shot back. He grabbed your arm roughly, even from atop Ivan. “Don’t even joke about such things. You are mine.” 

 

The way his fingers pressed into your skin sent a jolt of exhilaration through your body. Something made want to push him further. Make him riled up. Just something to get him out of his head. 

 

“Not even, if we let you watch…” you teased. 

 

He growled, “You’d be watching me murder a man with my bare hands…” 

 

“What if it wasn’t a man…” you smirked. “What if it was one of your favorite girls? Like Bartola, Catalina or Paula?”

 

The Prince was silent. He looked away so you couldn’t read his face. 

 

“Why so silent? Hm?” you pressed. “Don’t you dare lie to me, Prince- you know you’d love to watch that… You can’t tell me that you’ve never been with more than one woman at once. I know you… It’s not in your nature…”

 

“I’m not a beast, Y/N… It hurts that you still think of me that way…” he murmured. You could barely hear him as his voice caught the breeze and sailed away. 

 

Did you press too hard? Did you really push this once strong man to his breaking point? Impossible! 

 

“It wasn’t a trap, my Prince.” 

 

He remained silent pretending that something in the distance was more important. 

 

“I mean… I just- just- want to make you happy-”

 

“-I know it wasn’t a bloody trap,” he cuts you off with that deep, soft, serious tone. “I just don’t care to hear about it.”

 

“Oh, come on!” you say raising your voice. “I don’t believe for a second that you wouldn’t enjoy watching some whore fondling my breasts, while another one wraps her lips around your cock! It would be your dream come true! You’d have your cake and eat it too!”

 

“NO!” He shouts. “Don’t you understand?! You are MINE! And in case you haven’t caught on- I don’t like sharing! Now stop trying to bloody challenge me!”

 

“...I’m sorry, Your Grace,” you replied with a downcast glance. “I just want to make you happy, take you out of that silly head of yours.”

 

He picks up on your genuine desire to please him and his demeanor softens. He sighs as the lights from town start to approach up the path, “And you will, my darling… once I’ve had my way with you…” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE NEXT PART IS TAKES PLACE 8 MONTHS AFTER THE EVENTS OF THIS NIGHT. IT GETS SAUCY. BE PREPARED. LEAVE A KUDOS OR A COMMENT!


	28. A Lot Can Happen in 8 Months

*8 Months Later* 

 

You were sitting at a table in the Papal States palace. 

You were writing a letter to Scotland. Informing Sam of current events. The state of the war, economic instability and social upheaval. The royal family was under fire. On the outs some would say. 

It terrified you.

The way the commoners were rising up.

The threat of a Republic rising. 

You shake away the thought. The war wasn’t over yet. 

The coup wasn’t a success thanks to dumb luck when you stumbled upon a rebellion meeting that night you spontaneously went into town. 

Turns out Ghita and your handmaiden were right- Bartola was part of a larger plan. 

And to think it all came from an argument about visiting Tom’s favorite brothel. 

But you can’t entirely dismiss that night. 

It was also magical. The things you did in the woods…

But now you were sore, scared and without your husband. 

Everyone was treating you oh so delicately. As if you would break. Burst maybe. But break- not a chance. 

That first night, after he left, you were scared. Cold. Lonely. All you could do was cry. But now you’ve gotten used to it. 

You have your memories to keep you warm in bed. 

The memory of that sparkling night. Moon high in the sky. Constellations peering down like voyeurs through the treetops. Your Princes breath was ragged on your neck. His hands crawling under your baggy narrowed shirt. You thought to yourself- in all of the forest… he had the greatest wood. 

His hands on your waist. He whispered such unspeakable little things with each panting breath. He was decompressing from all the pressure. 

Before you commenced, he roped you into the romp when your horses paused for a drink in the creek. When you dismounted your mare you stumbled backwards and he caught you. 

His hands touching more than what was appropriate for public. It made you blush and giggle. He perked up at your reaction. It completely turned his mood around. He felt important. Like a man. And you didn’t want him to stop. 

That’s when he whispered in your ear, “You know, before my father got ill, he told me the secret to making an heir…”

“What is it?!” You giggled and kissed his cheek tenderly. 

He laughed and his lips brushed your ear as he said, “Make love as much as you possibly can…”

And before you knew it you were letting his hand trail into your stolen knickers. 

“My naughty little princess,” he kept saying over and over again as your fingers pulled at his curls. 

You moaned, praising your Prince for his finest work to date. 

It felt magical. Like heaven was smiling upon you two for the first time. The moon cheering you on. Everything was going to work out. 

These bad times would pass. 

You had each other. 

But that wasn’t true. 

Things got worse. 

And if only you had known then that it would be one of the most memorable nights of your life. 

That it would be the last time you’d make love for the next 8 months. 

With so much loss and goodbyes still yet to come. 

  
  



	29. A Princess's Loneliness

How many days until Sam would receive you distress letter? How many days until help could arrive?

The summer palace was more secluded and protected. A proxy remained in your stead at the main palace. You hoped your proxy would fool any coup attempt- that the public -who so rarely if ever saw your face anyway- would think she was you. 

The famine was reached a tipping point and your Prince broke all his promises to the people. He had to tax them to fund the border wars. He couldn’t accept that his family’s power had reached its maximum breadth. He was in constant want for more. 

You were nearly infiltrated from the inside with all of that unfettered access Bartola had when she had her secret meetings with your Prince. 

Damn that whore. 

Your entire regime of handmaidens and servants had to be changed when you moved palaces. The Prince made sure of it. An extra precaution in case any of them were informants. The servants at the summer palace were from a town far enough away from the insurgents. They could be trusted. It was unlikely that they even knew about the uproar. They only knew about the pressing war at the borders that kept your husband far far away. 

Too far away. It made your heart ache to no end. 

Some days you were too afraid to leave the palace for even a stroll. The Queen feared for your health in your vulnerable state. She insisted that you remain inside anyway. 

The two of you grew closer than ever. You were really all each other had while the boys were at war and the King was in a painfully slow decline. 

A few months ago, the King was seeing better days. He was able to keep his eyes open for a whole day and chat. The Queen wept tears of joy. 

You were going to send Tom a letter about the good news but his health fell again before you could even send it. You and the Queen weren’t on such great terms at the time.

During the evacuation of the palace she was cold to you. She saw a glimpse of Tom’s genuine love for you. A commodity his mother was never fully privilege of seeing. You could feel the resentment radiating off of her even from the next room over. But after helping the Queen through her inner turmoil, she truly acted as a mother figure to you and in turn coddled you in the absence of her sons. 

While the Queen’s company was warm and fulfilling- it still felt like your heart had a chunk missing and in place of that chuck was quaking fear.

You sat sipping tea by the West facing window in your bedroom. You spent many days staring out of that window. Imagining and dreaming that your Prince would come galloping in on Ivan, his family crest shimmering on his chest. His hair in a sweaty mess of curls. That cheeky grin of victory crawling up his face like the last time you saw him squash a squirmish. That very first time you both rode Ivan. The dirty little metaphors he whispered into your ear. How uncomfortably hot your face felt even with the sun dipping behind the horizon. 

You can’t imagine how sore and exhausted he must be from so much time at war. 

His initial mission wasn’t even to fight in the border war. He set off to buy a missionary army for extra security in the town outside of the main palace and then sent another one to the French border while he was at it. However, the French saw the extra security at the border as an attack- a threat. To Tom- if they perceived it as a threat- they might as well attack. A fool’s move in your opinion. Rash heart-of-a-lion bullshit. 

You recall that Tom never even liked the use of mercenary army’s. He once read an advice book that noted their fleeting loyalty. With the current economic state of the Empire- it was beyond risky to promise them funds of any kind. War was expensive. Once the money is gone- so is your paid foreign army. 

You hoped desperately that Sam was a god in bed- the Queen of Scotland’s financial support would be crucial to funding his military endeavor. 

Tom couldn’t let the border war heat up without him. He hated France. He thought the French prince was a haughty, pompous, spoiled weakling. He wanted nothing more than to bring his demise. However, slowly claiming his land would do in the meantime. 

You begged Tom in letter to come home at once. You were starting to feel ill and you needed his comfort. The comfort of his arms when you made love in the woods on that last night. That night before your entire world flipped upside down and Tom left. 

Your Prince refused to come home. His letter back sent hot boiling tears racing down your cheeks. It was so brief. So devoid of feeling despite being signed, “All my love.” It didn’t feel like all his love. All his love was the things you did in the woods. All his love was kneeling under your dress in front of Ghita. All his love was the tender moments spent in the stables. But now it seemed that all his love was his hate for the French prince and desire for an expanding Empire. You gave up on writing him letters with updates on your life. He probably didn’t have time for them. Plus, the more letters you sent the more chance they would be intercepted by the wrong hands. Although it pained you, you left him in the dark. You wouldn’t beg him to come home anymore. Another rejection at this point would almost be too much to bear. 

Still, you worried about him out there. 

You hoped he was well and satisfied. 

You wondered who was rubbing his shoulders…

And if there was more to it…

Your heart clenches and your lungs feel tight. 

You hear the door to your chambers open as someone walks in.

You don’t bother to look as you are still lost in thought. 

“Ah, there you are my beloved Princess!” a deep voice calls. 

A flutter ignites in your heart. 

It’s him.

You turn around and it’s true. 

It’s Lorenzo Benedetto. 

  
  



	30. More Than Tea is Brewing

Oh, Lorenzo. 

Dressed in his daily attire. 

A servant’s uniform. 

In the absence of your old handmaiden, you grew quite close to Lorenzo. 

With a shortage of female staff, Lorenzo became your new right hand assistant. 

He was loyal-

He was there. 

It was impossible for him to threaten your marriage and fidelity to the Prince… right?

Lorenzo was young, with a boyish face not entirely unlike your Prince’s. He was lean but lacked the strength of a warrior like your husband. 

However, there was a kindness. A tenderness. A gentleness in his heart that was warm and inviting. 

He was a bastard son, born in a brothel and deemed too slight for war. But not all parts of him were so fragile. 

You once spilled tea on him. It was an accident. You commanded him at once to change into something dry. You were trying to be a kind master. But when he dropped his knickers suddenly, (and only inches from your face), you realized that he misunderstood what you were asking of him. 

Your cheeks burned a rosy hue. 

You weren’t expecting such prime sausage to hang from the slim-framed young man in front of you.

You both laughed off the misunderstanding. 

Although things felt much different from then on. 

Especially, when he helped you with parts of dressing. Sometimes when you were feeling lonely and were particularly missing your Prince’s firm touch, you would even allow your nightgown to slip from your shoulders when he dropped off your tea before bed. 

He started to take notice. 

You could tell by the look in his dark eyes.

And perhaps it was just your imagination but you thought you noticed the crotch of his pants start to tighten.  

He was a commoner. You were married. 

But Tom was a million miles away. Fighting a war he didn’t have to start.

He was likely getting his fix the same way he used before you were married. Or perhaps even while you were married… The more distance and time that passed the more you questioned the bond and love you began to share with your husband before he left. If all the things he told you were true. If he really loved you and wanted things to work out… then why was taunting the French more important? 

You were just supposed to sit here.

In this decaying palace- 

As his Empire crumbled around you- 

As he left you and all his family with barely any military protection after deciding that the border war was a better priority.  

You were to wait idly by until he came home. Until victory was his and another French village was ransacked and burned to the ground. 

Lorenzo, on the other hand, was comforting. His hands were soft when they grazed your skin. 

He spoke to you in a warm and harmonious tone. 

His words were soothing and flattering. You reminded yourself that you were in a position of power. This could be all a show on Lorenzo’s part. But still, you couldn’t imagine Lorenzo ever raising his voice. It didn’t seem to be in his nature. 

Your Prince was born with the heart of a lion. But Lorenzo seemed to be an elevated breed of beast. He was intelligent, cautious, caring and calculated. Above all, he was rational and mindful in all of his interactions.

Despite his lack of education, he carried himself with grace and confidence. Talking to him was engaging. He always brought up such thoughtful points that made you question and reevaluate your opinions. 

Sometimes, when the days were hot and you were feeling particularly unwell, the two of you played chess in the sun room. He taught you strategies. 

You started to wonder if Tom would ever play chess with you someday. You’d imagine the two of you in the main palace again. The morning light streaming in through the sheer curtains of your bed chambers as you played a naughty game of chess for your clothes. However, as time passed the thought seemed more and more far off and impractical. As time went on, you could no longer imagine a future where your Prince would settle down.

It was then that you realized that this would be the norm in your life. Playing chess in the summer palace with Lorenzo as the summer heat send trails of sweat down your neck. 

That blissful cool night in the woods where Tom ravaged your flesh and moaned your praises would be the exception. The more time that passed without so much as a letter, the more tainted that memory became. All those crazy promises whispered in your ear were meaningless. 

You could never count on him to stay put. There would always be more wars to fight and more territory to gain. Over and over again. Until one day when he is bested and he never comes home.

What were you to make of your life in his absence? What were you going to cling to for comfort and companionship while Tom fancied you a second priority? 

That’s when you felt Lorenzo’s presence in your life deepen its roots and take hold. 

“Lorenzo! What brings you to my bed chambers at this hour?” You say with a sultry taunt. 

His kind eyes have something else buried in them. Something that makes you worry. 

There’s concern and perhaps a touch of sadness. 

Your chest starts to tighten. 

He takes a deep breath before responding, “... I’m afraid I’ve only come to deliver you some news, beloved…” 

  
  



	31. The Night That Changed Everything

“What is it?” you ask with bated breath.

“It’s the King, I’m afraid…” Lorenzo said softly. 

The King had finally given in to his illness and breathed his last. 

The Queen was at his side. 

A letter was immediately sent for Tom and the twins. 

However, out of respect for the family, the news of the King’s passing wouldn’t be announced until at least the Prince returned home. 

Because of course, now he HAD to return home… for his coronation. 

You’re heart twists and swirls with conflicting emotions. Heartbroken over the King. Excited to see your Prince return home. Nervous that upon seeing him, it would confirm that his love for you was a just a lie. Then of course that knot in your gut- What about Lorenzo?

That night you barely slept. 

The next few days all blended together with mourning and being a shoulder for the Queen to lean on. 

You helped prepare the funeral arrangements. Picked out the garments for the King to be laid to rest in and had his body preserved as best as it could be so that your Prince could get one last look. 

You couldn’t even imagine how your Prince was feeling at the moment. You remembered his last night at the palace when you two ran away for the night. He was feeling torn up about his father and nervous about continuing his father’s legacy as an excellent leader. 

But why would he leave him? Leave you? Just to squabble over one more town or two?

The senseless questions made your head hurt and your heart burn with anger. 

And to think that everything could have been different if you hadn’t walked through town after making love in the woods…

***

Ivan and Mila’s hooves clipped along the stone path. The cool breeze whipped through your thin layers with a chill of excitement. 

The Prince took you through the winding roads of town, showing you all the secret in and outs. It was late and the streets were mostly empty. It felt like a private tour. A whole a new world you’ve never seen with a new fantastic point of view. 

The Prince showed you all the alleys he used to cause a ruckus in. The places he would scrap in when he’d break free from the palace. He recounted every brawl. Every spat. 

“Show me your favorite brothel…” you said with a bit of a biting edge. You can’t seem to let his ugly habit lay dark and dormant. While it rips a new tear in your heart every time you think of it- you fear leaving it untouched. You’d rather let the wound bake in the sun than fester in darkness. 

He was silent and turned his face away from you. 

“Tom, why not? Maybe I’d hate it less if I saw it!” You prodded. 

“Oh you’ll hate it… and you’ll hate me all over again..” he muttered. 

“I will not! What is the worst that could happen?”

“They’ll recognize me and our secret journey won’t be so secret anymore-“

“That’s not it!” You said cutting him off. 

“Fine! Maybe I don’t want you to be in a such a dirty place- Such a regrettable part of my past! Maybe I want fucking move on with my life and quit agonizing over the mistakes I made as a boy! Maybe I’m trying to grow into the leader I’m destined to become!” He shouts. 

You recoiled. The veins in his neck were bulging. You realized that you had gone too far. Pushed too hard. 

“When will you ever be satisfied with me, Princess?” he huffs. 

You were quiet, unsure of what he meant by his question. 

“Answer me!” he barked. 

“Your Highness, I have always been more than satisfied by you…” your voice trailed weakly. The words tasted like vinegar because they weren't’ true. It was reverting back to pretending with him once again, but you couldn’t very well tell him the truth… Especially, when you had already riled him up. 

“Lies,” he spat as he quickly dismounted Ivan. You dismounted Mila without a second thought and he fastened the horses to a post. 

“What are we doing?” you asked him cautiously. 

He grips your throat and pins you the nearest wall. 

Your eyes widened and he pressed his lips to your ear, “Apparently, releasing the old beast in me, since you seemed so intent on drawing him out.” 

His fingers pressed a bit painfully on your jugular but you challenged him with a brave stare. Through the subtlety of emotions he conveyed with his eyes you could see a crack in the angry facade.

His hands remained at your throat but his face shattered to a much softer emotion. He looked deep into your eyes and whispered, “When will my best be good enough for you? Why must you punish me a seven times over for every single sin I’ve committed in my lifetime?” He shakes his head, “I’d die a thousand executions if it were up to you… I’m sorry you’ve lived such a kept life, Princess. And I’m sorry I didn’t lead the pious, holy life you wish I had- but I can’t change any of that now. All I can do is promise to always love you moving forward…”

You were at a loss for words. Only moments ago you were romping in the forest his panting breaths in your ear....

“If you can’t seem to leave the past behind… then we might as well face it head on…” he murmured and his hands moved to your waist. As if a magnetic pull demanded it so, he pulled you flush against his hips. His hips seemed to be the only ‘little’ part of his body and a point of attraction you were admiring as you spilled over the edge of ecstasy a moment earlier. Even as your hips were pressed to his, you could feel his groin begin to grow. It would seem that his body had an insatiable need for you and perhaps the boy’s heart inside of a warrior’s body needed you to. Needed your approval. Your acceptance. Your love in spite of his missteps. 

“So you’ll show me the brothel then?” you asked. 

He nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on yours. 

You sprang a sudden and affectionate peck on the lips. It startled him. 

He held your waist tighter and lifted you off the ground, “Why do you never give me any warning?” he laughed into your cheek. “I’d like to savor those moments, if you don’t mind…”

“I gave you plenty to savor in the woods, Your Grace,” you chuckled. 

***

That was the last little happy conversation you had with your husband. A moment you wished you had savored at the time. Perhaps now, it was better if you entirely forgot. He’d be home soon enough and who knows what type of man would return. 

  
  



	32. Grand Entrance

You dressed your best. Your Prince should be arriving any minute now. While you’re certain that he’ll be upset that you weren’t waiting on the steps of the palace to greet him. You really didn’t feel up to it. The sun was hot and the air thick with humidity. The combination was sickening. Plus, the Queen had been growing more and more paranoid of a coup since the passing of her husband. She didn’t want you waiting outside where you could be an easy target. 

You were waiting in the throne room. Every little sound was making your heart jump out of your chest. You were waiting anxiously for the horns that would alert of your husband’s arrival. Lorenzo kindly asks if you would want his company while you waited. 

You decline, graciously. You didn’t know what to expect from your long-awaited reunion with your Prince, but you felt the need to shield Lorenzo from it. What if the Prince tries to kill Lorenzo?

Fear strikes your heart suddenly. What if you didn’t recognize your husband when he walked in. You remember now so clearly when you first met him. How he looked nothing at all like a Prince. Dirty. Bloodied. Unkempt. 

It’s been so long too since you’ve last seen him, what if you have been remembering him wrong? What if he comes in with a legion of his king’s guard and you can’t tell which man is yours?

The throne room was so empty, vast and eerily still. All these impossible little fears seemed to grow to fill the space. Echoing off the stone walls and gaining momentum with each bounce. 

Dread fills your heart until it is heavy like an anchor.  You remember the manner in which the Prince left you…

***

You woke up in a startled panic to an empty bed. After overhearing the commoners plan for a coup, you were instantly frightened. The Prince remained calm as he guided you back to the palace atop your horses. The Prince insisted that the threat could be handled in the morning. He assured you that you were completely safe in the palace. He held you until you feel asleep. 

But it would seem that he just said those things to keep you from worrying. 

You ran to find him and caught him only as he was nearly out the door. His armor strapped tight, his sword at his side. 

“Tom!” you shouted across the hall as you ran to catch up to him. He spun on his heels, alarmed to see you. “What’s going on? Where are you going? Why didn’t you wake me?” 

The Prince’s eyes widened with a deep and sympathetic sadness, “Princess, it’s early, I didn’t want to disturb you…” he said softly. 

“Lies!” you screamed and you shoved his chest hard. He looked surprised, but his boulder-like build didn’t budge.  “Where are you going?! We’re not in danger are we? Did you lie to me? Are we not safe here?!”

Your mind swirled with so many emotions, it made you dizzy even to stand there. Surely your Prince wasn’t abandoning you…

“I’m going to get help. Pay for some back up,” he said calmly.

“D-d-don’t go, Tom!” You started to sob, “I’m terrified! What if they attack when you’re not here? Overthrow while you are away?” 

“You’ll be fine Princess. I made plans to move you and the family to the summer palace. It’s far from here and you’ll be safer there. You needn’t worry…” he said a bit tersely. 

“But why wouldn’t you at least say goodbye!” you shouted as a tear finally rolled down your cheek. 

He brushes the tear away from your cheek. His face could’ve been carved out of stone for all the lack of emotion. It was unfeeling and distant, “Because I didn’t want this… I can’t stand goodbyes,” he grunted.

“But you’re coming right home, aren’t you?” you asked as gripped tightly onto his forearm. “You’ll come right home with your army?”

He shook his head, “I won’t make any promises, Princess,” his eyes were dark as two black holes and you felt like you were slipping into them. Into the void.

“Please!” you pleaded, “Take me with you! Just don’t leave me here all alone!”

“Coming with me would put you in more danger. I promise, you will be safer in the summer palace,” the more emotional you got, the more curt his tone became. It was breaking your heart that he would leave you without so much as a word.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t even say goodbye! And after all we’ve been through! You’re killing me, Prince!” you cry out. 

“I never meant to hurt you,” his voice is icy and stern, “I hate seeing you so upset.” But his tone and demeanor was so brief and piercing… it seemed contradictory.

You desperately search his eyes for a glimmer of the man that told you he loves you. The man that way so playful with you in the stables. The man that made wild love to you in the woods under a blanket of stars. 

You hugged him tightly, your cheek pressed against his chilling breast plate. You couldn’t feel the heartbeat which must be pounding somewhere underneath. But you had no proof. No way to know if his heart was racing as fast as yours. You couldn’t feel anything.  Not through the thin steel. And along with that, you couldn’t find the man you had grown to love either. Those mental walls you worked so hard to break down, seemed to have reformed overnight. 

He patted you on the back almost patronizingly. He was trying his damnedest to be as composed and indifferent as possible. 

He was protecting himself. 

But you urgently wished he would just protect you. 

He started to pull away and continue towards the door, “I ought to be on my way, Princess,” he grumbled. 

“Please, PLEASE, don’t go!” you cried. You gripped onto his arm as he walked away. He kept walking as you skidded across the floor trying to slow him down, but to no avail. 

“Princess, you’re being ridiculous,” he spat and he shook you off his arm like a ragdoll, causing you to tumble to the floor. 

He walked out the door without so much as turning around to see if you were alright. 

That was the absolute last you saw of your husband. 

He discarded you like a pest. 

***

You jolted out of your daze, when you heard the muffled sound of horns and marching coming from the hall outside the throne room. 

You adjusted yourself. Sitting up straight. You try to make your face as blank and composed as possible. You wanted to prepare yourself. Who knows what version of your husband was approaching?

The doors swing open. The horn’s blare becomes clear and echoes off the walls of the large room. 

Your Prince is finally walking towards you. 

His curly brown hair matted with sweat. 

Dirt smudged all over his face. 

Cuts and bruises cover every inch of skin that his visible with his armor on. 

He looks composed and blank as ever. He even tries to hide a limp that is clearly ailing his left leg. 

As much as he has hurt you, his mere presence pumps new blood into your veins. His handsome features are more refined than you remember them.

You rise out of your throne. A sign of respect for his entrance. 

That’s when his eyes widen and a look of horror casts suddenly over his face. 

He signals for his men to stand back as he races towards you. His armor clanking in the abrupt silence.

You take a deep breath as he leaps onto the platform. 

No one in the room makes a single move. 

He places his hands on either side of your swollen belly. 

For a moment, he just stares down in disbelief. 

Then he looks up into your eyes. Those big brown orbs burrowing straight through to your soul. All his barriers are peeling away, revealing a deep sorrow behind them. 

He whispers almost breathlessly, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  
  



	33. Lies Aren't Your Strength, Princess

You find your Prince in the ballroom. The marble casket open on a platform in the center of the room, right in front of him. The floor to ceiling windows have their curtains drawn for privacy. A thousand candles are lit around the otherwise dark room. Your Prince’s back is facing you as you enter through the large double doors. He doesn’t bother to turn around. 

He’s cleaned up since he first arrived. 

Wearing his best and brightest crimson colored garments. Red is most certainly his color. 

His previously unkempt curls now cleaned and groomed into place. 

Although a few rebellious strands lick at the base of his crown like flames. 

You’ve hardly seen him in his crown. He wears it as little as possible. He despises the restraintive feeling of the gold and the weight of the precious stones. 

He also thinks it makes his large ears stick out. A self-conscious murmur you heard once while he was dressing. 

Your footsteps echo in the hallow expanse. Surely, he hears you approaching…

Still he remains facing away from you, his eyes downcast at his late father. 

Maybe it was a mistake to come here. Perhaps he wished to be alone.

But if he wanted company, Lord knows he would have never asked for it. 

“Prince?” you whisper hesitantly as you step beside him. 

He doesn’t answer. 

He doesn’t move.

You lean forward a bit to try to meet his eyes. 

They glisten, filled to the brim with tears but he refuses to let one fall. 

It was such an intimate and vulnerable expression from your fierce husband that you immediately felt the need to look away.  

After all this time away from home-

After all the monumental events that have occured and revealed themselves-

He was rubbed raw. 

You stare down solemnly at the stiffened late ruler of the Empire. 

His face pale as a ghost, absent of life’s pumping rosy hue.

It was hard to look at. 

But truth be told, he didn’t look much different in his last remaining months of life. 

With your head bowed respectfully, you tried to focus on anything else but the corpse in front of you. You examined the etchings in the marble. They told stories that remembered the King at his bravest moments. 

He was the Great Conqueror. The Empire nearly doubled under his rule. He fought valiantly in the face of a republic uprising at the beginning of his rule. He disbanded the remaining rebels dispersing them at opposite ends of the empire but nevertheless sparing their lives. He was a ruler that was both feared AND loved. He was an excellent strategist, always allocating his resources wisely. Appointing the best advisers and generals to keep watch over the many regions. 

He raised his sons to have the ferocity of a lion and the wise trickery of a fox. Some of his sons carried more of one quality than the other. But nevertheless, they all grew to become fearless noblemen and leaders. Or perhaps, almost fearless…

You let the silence grow and expand to the size of the ballroom. 

Now, was not the time to push him to the brink of his emotions by making him talk. 

He must be in a whirlwind shock. 

One minute focused on war. The next dealing with his father’s passing. Then coming home to a pregnant wife…

It was a lot for even a master of swallowing emotions. 

You’ll stand here in the thick cloud of noiselessness, until he’s ready to say something. Or even if he never says anything at all. 

He hasn’t shooed you away… which seems like a stubborn Prince’s way of asking you to stay. 

You wish you could comfort him in some way. Say something smart and warming. Something that would give him hope and peace. You wish to stroke your fingers along the cramping muscles of his back. Soothe all of his aches with the soft pads of your digits. Tousle his curls with your fingers as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. Feel those mighty and tactile hands press firmly on your waist as you sway with him. Finally inhale his scent as deeply as you did making love under the stars. Brush firmly against his body in an insatiable embrace after so many months apart. Thumb any fallen tears off his strong jaw. 

But the truth is, you were still upset with him. 

The way he shook you off his arm as you pleaded for him to stay and protect you. He could’ve just sent Harry to do his bidding for the mercenaries. But, no. He chose to leave you all alone. 

And when you begged for him to come home when he was finished. To withdraw from another senseless border squabble. You were feeling terribly ill at the time, his father’s condition was on the brink and he still refused to return. You so foolishly thought he cared about you. And what about those tears shed for his father in the stable on that very last night? Not to mention that winning more French territory wouldn’t give much gain to the Empire’s economic crisis and food shortage anyway. It was all in the name of pride! 

The inches between you two was emotionally worth miles. 

The Prince has opted for a quick coronation to take place at the Summer palace. He declined for a move back to main palace. He was never one to waste time for ancient formalities anyway. He was itching to return to war you were sure if it. Itching to abandon you and his mourning family for his personal vendetta. 

The Prince has decided to have the burial festivities in the summer palace as well, although his body would’ve taken away to be laid in the catacombs of the main palace. 

You feel like you’ve spent a million years staring down at the casket, in the deafening silence of the ballroom.

“I heard a few months ago that he came out of his coma… why didn’t you send me a letter?” The Prince asked. His tone was so flat it sounded metallic. He was still as stone. His eyes remain trained on his late father. 

“I was about to, Your Highness. But he slipped back under before I could even finish the letter. I thought there would be no use in teasing you with hope, just to tell you that it faded quickly…” you replied quietly. Each word felt like it was disturbing the air around you.  

“Did you talk to him… while he was awake?” His voice rumbled at a low decibel. 

“I did. The Queen and I were able to chat with him for a little. We didn’t want to overwhelm him…”

“What did he say?... Did he say anything about me?...”

The truth was the King didn’t say much at all about his sons. He was more interested in making the Queen laugh away her tears. He wanted her to have a good last memory of him, even if he could no longer be the mighty conqueror that he once was. He asked about his sons. He asked if they were healthy and strong with might and wit. You didn’t want to burden him with worries about the coup. But you did mention the Prince’s purchase of mercenaries and his conquest for more French territory. He didn’t say much other than express his concern for purchasing mercenaries because “they’ll run once the money’s gone” and sigh heavily saying that the plan, “certainly sounded like Tom’s idea.” 

But you lie and say, “He said that he loved you… I told him about your plans for expanding the Empire… and he was very proud of you…” 

“Lies aren’t your strength, Princess…”

“I’m not-“

“Save it!” He barks, “...I knew you were lying as soon as you said he loved me…” 

You didn’t know how to respond. There was nothing you could say. You decided it was best to keep quiet and let the Prince calm down in the silent void. 

Suddenly, the Prince whispered and it seemed as loud as a shout, “Was he afraid?” 

“Pardon?” you turn to him but his eyes remain on the casket. 

“In the end… was he brave?”

“I-I-I don’t know, Your Grace,” you admit softly. Guilt wells up in your lungs, “Your mother was at his side… but I was not.”

“Of course you weren’t,” He sneers, his eyes still brimming with tears but a subtle quiet rage brews behind them. He finally turns to meet your eyes, “You were too busy frolicking and romping with your beloved servant!” he growls. 

 


	34. More Questions Than Answers

Fear pours over your body like poison, “Prince, I assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about!” You lie, although the fright in your eyes contradicts you. 

“I warned you once not to lie to me, Princess- you’re really bad at it!”

“What are you talking about?” you defend, although your hope wanes.

“You mean WHO am I talking about?- Lorenzo Benedetto! The bastard son of a whore!”

Your face goes pale at the mention of his name. How has he come across this knowledge? You were so careful to keep Lorenzo preoccupied elsewhere all day in attempt to keep him safe from your violent husband. 

Without thinking you take a step away from Tom, as he brews with a terrifyingly quiet anger. Before you can get more than an arm’s length away, he catches you by your wrist with  unapologetic command. It was a message. You weren’t allowed to walk away from this one. 

His fingernails started to pierce the first few layers of skin on your wrist and you tried your best not to wince at the pain. You were afraid it would only give him pleasure to know that he was hurting you. 

Then, as if he could read your mind, he says, “My informants briefed me on the scandal. Did you really think I would leave my palace- which was at a known risk for a coup- without spies to dig around while I was gone? I thought you’d be smarter than that! Surely you remember the morning of the executions- remember how I told you that I had informants everywhere? Did you really think that would suddenly stop? Or were you dim enough to think you were immune from their reports?” he spat. 

Hot tears fill your eyes as you instinctively begin to tug your wrist away. However, it was no use, he had a death grip on you, and you were no match for his strength. 

It’s been a while since you weathered one of his rages… but there was something different about this one. 

Usually, his eyes would go dark and cold. He would transform into a completely different beast. One devoid of feeling. 

But this time was strikingly different. His forehead wrinkled, his eyebrows slightly upturned and there is a glistening in his eyes. While most rages were rooted in blind madness and pride… this one was grounded in pain and sorrow. 

As much as you feared him and as much as he has angered you- your heart still aches at the oozing outpour of his internal torment.

You’ve already used up all your warnings for lying. Another one could potentially end in a forceful strike. But the truth would only exacerbate his rage. 

So you stay silent. 

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself, Princess?” he pants like a rabid dog and the veins in his neck start to bulge. 

You remain still, your eyes focused on his. Focused on the pain behind them and slowly realizing that the pain is mirrored in your own.

You try your damnedest not to cry. You refuse to give him that satisfaction. 

If he was repressing his tears than surely you were strong enough to do the same. 

As more time passes, the Prince starts to crumble in the absence of answers. 

You can see that behind his eyes, he is torturing himself with every possible outcome and scenario for each answer you refuse to give him. It starts to eat away at him that he can’t rattle your cage enough for you to speak. He wants to watch you grovel. Justify yourself. Beg for forgiveness. But you aren’t giving him any of those.

All the while, his composure deteriorates, his shoulders begin to slump. His posture, once so imposing, becomes that of a wounded animal. A defeated man. A broken man. 

However, his grip on your wrist never loosens. 

He gestures to your engorged stomach. His mouth opens but he struggles to grab hold of the words, “How long has it been? Why didn’t you send me a letter? Why wo-”

“Would it have made a difference?!” you finally snap. 

His anger ticks up a notch, your earlier decision to remain silent is proven wise. “What do you mean?!” he shouts defensively. 

Against your better judgment you clarify, “Would it have made you come home? Would you really have withdrawn from the border, wave a white flag and retreat? Come back to the palace?”

He draws back in surprise at your bold questions. He stutters, “Wha- Well- I don’t- That’s not the question, Princess! The way I would chose to run my Empire is of no concern to you! You had valuable information- a worthy update- and you withheld it from me! What ever happened to being a team? Hm? Not keeping secrets between us?! Does that not apply to you anymore?” 

“No! Prince, but-”

“Or did not write to me because there is something to hide?!” he yells. 

The words fall to the floor and you suddenly can’t believe that you are having this argument in the presence of your fallen ruler’s corpse. It felt incredibly disrespectful. 

You lower your voice to a more even speaking tone, “Your response to my letter was curt, to say the least. I got the impression that you didn’t want to come home and that you couldn’t be bothered with palace updates in the midst of a war. And I thought better of risking private information that could fall into the wrong hands.” 

He shakes his head at you and curl drops to dangle on his forehead, his voice is soft but imbued with passion, “You didn’t answer my question, Princess… was there something to hide?...” 

You remain quiet for a moment to mull over your next words carefully. 

He gestures again to your belly, struggling to verbalize a question and keep his composure. He nearly chokes on a sob as the words leave his mouth, “Is it even mine?”

  
  



	35. Faithful or Fateful?

The words stoke the rage in your heart. The flame growing until it's all consuming. 

What an insolent question!

“How dare you!” you shout, “You left me all alone! I was terrified! All I wanted was your warmth, your protection- not all Princes have to go to war! You didn’t even have to start this war! You chose to leave me behind! And you chose to do who-knows-what when you were away at war!-”

“-I refrained while I was away!-” he interjects.

“- And I watched out the window EVERY DAY, waiting for you to come home! Waiting for you to remember that your family needed you!-”

“-IS IT MINE, PRINCESS?! ANSWER ME!” he howls.

“Of course it’s yours!” you exclaim. A tear finally falls to your cheek and it burns as it rolls down. 

“Are you sure?!” he yells, although his voice cracks halfway through. 

“Of course I’m sure, Your Highness! I have never even been touched by another man!”

“You haven’t?” he asks a bit surprised and doubtful. 

“Of course not!” you shout.

He’s taken aback by the genuineness of your response, he believes that you are telling the truth, “But- you-you must’ve!” he stutters, “Several of my informants told me that they saw him entering your chambers late at night! That the two of you spent a lot of alone time together in the sunroom! That you acted obscenely tender and flirtatious towards him!”

“We played chess! Had intelligent conversations! I read him books! But I never touched him! I refrained!- I would never betray you like that! I would never force your mighty wrath on anyone!”

He suddenly releases your wrist, but then grips you forcefully by the shoulders. His body an inch away from your stomach, his face close to yours, “I would slowly rip the limbs off any man that even got close to touching you,” he growls.

“He never touched me, Prince, I promise!”

“I believe you…” he grumbles, “But he’s in your heart, he might one day become bold enough to try touching you-”

“-Please, Tom! NO! Don’t hurt him! He’s my only friend!-”

“‘You can find a new friend!” he barks.

“PLEASE! PLEASE DON’T HURT HIM!” you sob. 

He ponders for a moment. He used to love getting such a reaction out of you. However, Prince has grown awfully fond of you since you first met. Even though your tears were for Lorenzo he still hated seeing you so upset. His voice softened for a moment, “...For you Princess, I’ll be sure to give him a quick death. As painless as I can stand it.” 

You resign from any further pleading. A quick death is the best the Prince would ever offer. If you keep begging for Lorenzo’s life, it might show how deeply you care for the servant and cause the Prince to take back his word. You try to compose yourself for the sake of calming him down.  

His grip on your shoulders still tight, a surge of residual frustration rumbles through him, “No man will stand between me and my Princess!... You are mine!” he says shaking you violently. 

You feel a pang from inside and it makes you gasp involuntarily and lurch forward a bit. 

The Prince stares into your eyes, puzzled for a moment. 

You grab his arms and they fall away from your shoulders. 

You take his hands and place them on your belly, “And this is ours…” you whisper.

He’s still stunned and wondering why you jolted suddenly. 

Then you feel another sharp pang, that makes you jump a little. 

This time it’s the Prince that gasps. He stares down at your bump in near disbelief. 

“I don’t think the baby likes all the shouting… maybe that’s why it’s kicking” you say with a smirk, “Or perhaps it’s excited to it’s father’s voice…” 

“It’s ours…” he repeats almost to himself. 

He was trying hard to wrap his head around the concept. His brow wrinkled in concentration as he stared in wonderment at your belly. 

His hands were tender and timid as they moved across the surface of your middle. 

Despite all the yelling, the fighting, and accusations. You couldn’t help but feel relieved to have your partner at your side once more. Even in conflict, you held out hope that the sun would smile upon you two again. 

He looked so handsome and boyish in his state of amazement. 

In a swell of affection, you quickly pecked his lips. 

He shook out of his trance with a look of bewilderment. 

Before he could say anything you announced, “I’m rather tired and shall leave you to mourn in peace…”

You bow to him quickly and start to walk away. 

The Prince remains in shock for a moment before running after you and saying, “Y/N, my dear, I should help you to our chambers!” 

  
  



	36. Insecurity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait!

The Prince rips off his crown. 

“Stupid, bloody piece of jewelry!” he shouts. 

His curls spring loose. Happy to be free. 

This is usually about the time Lorenzo would come in to help you undress. You hope for his sake he is smart enough to assume that the Prince will help you. 

There is a knock at the door. You jump with fright. 

Please. Don’t be Lorenzo.

The last thing you want tonight is to watch a man you love kill another man you care for. 

The Prince opens the door. 

It’s Lorenzo. 

The Prince surprisingly lets him in and sizes him up as he walks in. You realize it’s because he doesn’t know that it’s Lorenzo. 

Lorenzo pushes in a cart with your evening tea. A bedtime service you’ve started requesting since the Prince’s absence. You watch the Prince’s facial expressions carefully. He’s confused but not upset. You notice that there are two cups instead of the usual one. Lorenzo was smart to bring a set for the Prince. 

“Thank you,” you say to Lorenzo though your eyes flash a subtle warning. You hope that he receives the message and leaves quickly before the Prince can put two and two together. 

The Prince gets whiff of suspicion. You can see it in his eyes. Lorenzo bows to the Prince and then bows to you and begins to walk towards the door. 

“Wait,” Tom commands in a quiet and firm tone. Lorenzo spins on his heels to face the Prince and the Price continues, “Do you bring tea every evening?”

Lorenzo keeps his eyeline at the feet of the Prince as he responds, “Yes, Your Grace.”   
You hope and pray that the Prince doesn’t ask any further questions. It doesn’t appear to do any good. 

“Is that all the duties you perform for my Princess every evening?” he asks, his voice in a husky rumble. 

Lorenzo takes a deep inhale fully realizing that it could be his last, “No, Your Grace.”

“Mhm…” the Prince hums. He puts his hands behind his back and takes a few steps until he is toe to toe with Lorenzo. “So tell me. What are your other responsibilities?”

“I help the Princess with dressing for bed,” Lorenzo responds as flatly as possible. 

The Prince nods silently, “And what is your name?” he asks although he already knows the answer.

“Lorenzo, Your Grace.” 

There is a stillness in the room that makes it feel as if time is frozen. Your heartbeat is the only indication that time is still progressing. 

Then the Prince grips the prized dagger at the side. 

“Tom!” you shout suddenly. You waddle across the room to him as swiftly as you can. You place an hand on his bicep and give it an affectionate squeeze. “Let’s not let the tea get cold, my love.”

He flashes you a glare. So you start to gently stroke the bulge of his arm with your thumb and give him the sweetest pleading eyes you can muster. You causally place your other hand on your baby-filled belly. 

You watch the harsh look in his eyes slowly soften, until he sighs with defeat. His offensive posture resolves to something more relaxed. He is won over by your tender gestures.

“You now officially relieved of that last duty. I can take on that chore from now on,” the Prince says in a biting tone. 

Lorenzo bows once more and promptly exits before the Prince can change his mind. 

“Does that mean your staying?” you ask excitedly. 

“I- I- don’t know…” he stammers with a look of turmoil. 

“Please stay, Your Grace,” you whisper to him but your eyes are downright begging. 

“It’s Tom,” he snaps. 

“Tom, please stay. Please be here for the birth at least before you go back to the border war.” 

“I have much to consider, Y/N. But don’t for a minute doubt that you aren’t one of them.” 

You find his words hard to swallow. They seemed all too contrary to his recent actions. 

The two of you sit by the window to sip your tea. 

The Prince appears uncomfortable and bruting. But that’s not entirely unusual. 

“So that was… Lorenzo,” the way he says Lorenzo’s name sounds like he is spitting out acid.

“Yes, my love,” you confirm.

“Why?” he asks with a huff. 

“What do you mean?”

“I expected him to be more handsome. Someone strong of jaw. Someone taller with more bulk.”

“Well, you didn’t see all of him,” you joke. 

Opps. Now was not the time to joke. Especially, not about this subject. 

“What is that supposed to mean, Princess?” he prods with a growl. 

“It was just a joke! I’m sorry!”

“Is it true?... have you seen… it?!” the look on his face is the strangest mixture of insecurity and rage. 

“...I have…” you admit. 

“I thought you said he never touched you!” he roars. He throws his cup down on the floor and it shatters. 

“I only saw it once and it was an accident! I simple mistake! I asked him to change his pants but I misspoke and he did exactly what he thought I asked! I promise you Prince it was not intentional!” 

The Prince lets a snort out through his nostrils. You lean into the silence hoping it will cool off his rage. 

Finally he says, “Was it… bigger than mine?...” he looks vacantly out the window as he chews at the inside of his lip. 

It’s easy to forget that as mighty and ferocious as he is, he still craves validation and affection from his Princess. He needs to be reminded that you are a loyal partner and someone who can boost his boundless ego every time it falters. 

“Of course, not my dear. You had him beat, easily,” you say softly. “The poor thing might not even be capable of having children...That’s clearly not a problem for you my dear stallion,” you say a bit flirtatiously. Truth is, you had no idea who was bigger or if he was capable of having children or not. The moment was so brief and it’s hard to compare since he wasn’t aroused. You weren’t even sure if it were possible to tell if a man was sterile by looking at him. You didn’t even know what men looked like underneath their garments until your first night with the Prince. 

The Prince still looks out the window. He seems unconvinced by your compliments. 

He asks softly, although he still refuses to make eye contact, “What do you see in him?”

  
  



	37. Intimate

The Prince continues his thought, “I’m much stronger than him. I’ve been educated by the finest minds in Italy. I even still read advice books for running an Empire... And I don’t know much about looks, but I think I’m more handsome than… him,”

“You are more handsome, my love.”

“Then why?”

“He’s gentle, easy to talk to, thoughtful and romantic in a way…”   
“... And I guess I’m not any of those things…” he mutters under his breath. 

“But sometimes you are,” you say encouragingly. “You can be those things… Lorenzo is a good and loyal servant he would never-”

“-That’s enough Princess!” he cuts you off, “I’m sorry, my love, but his life can not possibly be spared. As long as he has a chance- he is a threat to what’s mine… I can’t believe my own mother assigned him to help you dress. I can’t believe she would toss a stake in our marriage like that!”

“There is a shortage of female staff… I think she just picked the kindest and most agreeable male for my comfort-”

“-A little too comfortable apparently!” the Prince huffs loudly. 

“Speaking of undressing… I believe you promised to help and I’m very uncomfortable in gown,” you purposefully start to tug at the fabric around your breasts. You make enough of a fuss that the Prince notices in his periphery and has no choice but to turn away from the window and catch a glance at your cleavage. 

The small taste seems to fuel his appetite as he immediately stands up to help you. 

If there was any hope for Lorenzo to at least have a quick death, you needed to convince Tom that he was special to you.

He helps you out of your chair. His hands strong and calloused from wielding weapons at war. You couldn’t wait to feel the friction of those rough hands against your soft skin. 

He stood behind you to unlace the back of your dress. You could feel his warm breath on your neck and it sends a river of chills down your spine. His hands slowly loosen the ribbons and your weary body immediately relaxes. 

He starts to slide the sleeves off your shoulders. Goosebumps spread across your bare shoulders at the sensation of his light touch. He stands close enough behind you that you can feel the warmth pouring off his body. 

He looms over your shoulder, watching as he unveils your perky chest. The fabric rests on your stomach and you slowly start to pull it further down. Tom’s hands grab hold of yours and he whispers softly into your ear, “...I believe that’s my job love…”

You raise your arms allowing him to slowly pull your dress down until you could step out of it. He similarly removes your undergarments. You wouldn’t dare move a muscle to help him. He seemed to be enjoying himself. He was not to be rushed either. 

Now you stood naked, your back still facing him. 

His index finger traced from the nape of your neck down your spine. It made you shiver. 

“Should I fetch my nightgown?” you asked over your shoulder with a smirk. 

“Don’t you dare…” he breathed. “I’ll fetch it for you when I’m done.”

“Done? My dear, I’m afraid that-”

“-Just let me look!” he says abruptly. 

You hear the shuffling of fabric behind you. You glance over your shoulder once again and see in your periphery that your Prince is undressing. 

You giggle, “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting ready for bed, Y/N. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Would you like any assistance, my love?” you ask coyly. 

“No… that’s alright, darling. I don’t want to burden you in your current state… But- I’d like your assistance a little later if you don’t mind?”

You wonder what he could possibly be talking about in terms of ‘assistance’ but you have a few ideas. But ‘if you don’t mind’? Now that was a peculiar phrase to pass the lips of your demanding Prince. You were surprised that after months at war that he remembered his lesson about waiting for real affection rather than forcing it. You glance behind you and note that he is now fully undressed and appears to have no intention of grabbing his night clothes. 

“Such an odd strategy you have there, my dear,” you say as your lips curl into a knowing smile. 

“What do you mean?” he says as he slowly saunters closer to you. 

“Why on Earth would you get us both undressed first, before grabbing night clothes?” you ask playing dumb. 

“Oh, bloody hell, Princess!” he jokes with mock anger, “Why must you question my strategy? Surely you know by now to trust my plans,” he laughs. 

His hands now slowly move up and down your sides. He can’t help but press a hot open mouth kiss against the patch of skin where your neck meets your shoulder. It was as if he wanted to devour you like his favorite dessert. A small gasp escapes your lips. He moans in response and the vibration against you feels heavenly. 

But a question still pricks at your mind like a troublesome thorn ruining the tender gesture of a rose.

“Speaking of strategy,” you start with an uneasy sigh, “Have you really remained faithful to your vows while you were away?” You search for eye contact as you look over your shoulder. He finally stops gnawing at your neck and lifts his eyes to meet yours. A devious smile spreads across his face and it ignites your heart. 

He raises an eyebrow. You start to giggle off your nervousness.

He starts to gently slap his engorged member against your bum and says, “Now, tell me, Y/N, if I didn’t keep my vows to you while I was away- do you really think I’d be this aroused already?” 

You laugh lightheartedly, “I don’t know, Tom… you’re quite the stallion. I’m sure you could’ve impregnated half the women in the Empire by now and still not tire.” You chose your words carefully. You wanted a straight answer from him but didn’t want to sound accusatory. Regardless of whether he relieved his fleshly desires at war, certainly he looked forward to special treatment from his wife in the comfort of his own bed. The last time he came back from war, ‘having been virtuous’, he ravaged you like an animal. Pinning you down as if you would run. You remember being so frightened at his might and ferocity as he slammed into you without a second thought for your comfort. Lucky for you, that time he didn’t take very long. 

You two have grown so much in your partnership since then. You were so grateful for his patience with you in this moment and his gentleness. You realize it must be straining on him that he can’t tackle you as roughly as he wished to before finding out about your pregnancy. 

“I’ve been loyal to you, Princess,” he groans a bit harshly. He’s frustrated that you didn’t take his word for it. He’s trying to shut down the conversation before it spirals into a fight. But in your defense, he hasn’t always been faithful. 

You need to turn his mood back around. 

You back into him, until your body leans on his. He wraps his arms around you and kisses your temple. You can feel his hardened manhood between your cheeks and he seems to like the contact. “Thank you, Tom… For being so patient and gentle with me. I know you must be aching and I’m sorry I’m in no state to play as roughly as you would like…”

“Nonsense,” he whispers into your ear. His hands move to your belly, “This means so much more to me than a silly preference… I’ve waited 8 months to play with you as I wish- I can wait a few weeks more.” 

He starts to sway you in his arms and his smell brings you happy memories of wrestling in the sheets. The full contact of skin against skin feels like a blessing after so much time being removed from everyone without human touch. Tears start to well in your eyes. You’ve been crying at every little thing these days. You try to keep yourself composed but your body betrays you and a tear streaks down your cheek. 

“What’s wrong, my love?” Tom asks with sudden concern. He kisses the tear off your cheek. 

“Nothing!” you say with a smile, “I’m just so happy to be with you again!”

He leans in close again as if to kiss your cheek but he waits. He’s waiting for a kiss on the lips. But a real one. One that only you can initiate. But this time he’ll be ready to reciprocate. 

Slowly, you press your lips to his and he immediately deepens the kiss, hoping you’ll stay for longer than a peck. 

The night blurs into a reintroduction of each other’s bodies and a vivacious exchange of catching and stealing kisses. He was intentional and tender with each movement of his lips and tongue. He granted you the most sparkling elation you’ve felt since he left. You whispered to each other is soft somber tones, giving one another praises and encouragement. 

At the end of it all, Tom finally finished dressing you both and the two of you shared the bed for the first time in forever.

He kissed you lovingly and reminded you that he loved you. And for the first time since his arrival he believed that it was true. 

The warmth of his body next to yours lulled you into the sweetest, most peaceful sleep you’ve had in nearly a year.

Until you awoke to the sudden absence of his presence in the bed. You caught only a fleeting glimpse of him in the moonlight. From what you saw: He snatched the dagger from the vanity and swiftly sped out the door...  

  
  



	38. A Prince's Dagger

Fright filled your heart. You knew you couldn’t follow him. Showing too much interest would only make things worse for Lorenzo and you were no match to wrestle the dagger out of the Prince’s hand. 

But you couldn’t fall back asleep. Not with your heart thundering in your chest. Not when you knew you’re beloved Lorenzo’s heart was being plunged in his sleep. Hopefully, the Prince’s aim is true and it is a quick death as the Prince promised earlier. 

You toss and turn until the sheets become too hot and you kick them off.

You hear footsteps quickly approaching your bedroom door. 

It must be the Prince. And if it is the Prince, then it must’ve been quick. He’s coming back much too early for there to have been torture or struggle. 

Wait. Should you pretend to be asleep? Will he be upset to find you awake? Will he tell you the gory details of your dear Lorenzo’s death for the pleasure of knowing he is now uncontested? How could such a glorious and tender night take such a sudden, dark turn?

The door flies open with a loud crash and your heart stops. 

You see the Prince’s silhouette cast in the dim candle light from the hall before the door closes behind him. 

He’s breathing heavily from the quick march back to the chambers. 

He tosses the dagger quickly back on the vanity and puts a hand to the back of his neck. 

His posture makes him seem almost… confused?

You glance to the dagger and it glints shiny in the moonlight. 

The dagger used to kill your poor Lorenzo. 

Except. Wait. The dagger. It’s shiny. Why isn’t it blood soaked?

Could the Prince have cleaned it off so fast on his march over here? He cherishes his weapons. Especially, the ones he wears in the palace. He takes his time cleaning them to preserve their lifespan. These weapons have been passed down in the family for years. 

But then you look to the Prince. His clothes are clean. Not a spot of blood on him. It would be nearly impossible to impale someone with such a close range object without a little mess. His hands and sleeves were clean. 

But surely your Prince wouldn’t shy away from a kill. He has been murdering since he was a mere boy! He is the most merciless man you’ve ever heard of. 

Perhaps he strangled Lorenzo. A clean kill without bloodshed.

Your Prince seemed awfully set on that dagger though…

The Prince turns in your direction and you freeze. 

“Y/N? Are you awake?” he asks. 

“...Yes…” you say hesitantly. 

He sit down on the chair at the vanity in a huff. 

His elbows rest on his knees and his hands cover his face. 

“...Prince?...” you ask, “What’s wrong?” 

He merely groans in response. 

“Tom?...” you ask as you prop yourself upright with some pillows for support. “What happened? What were you doing?”

“I-” he starts, “I- was going to kill Lorenzo… in his sleep…” he says hesitantly. 

“What was the problem?” you prompt. 

“He wasn’t sleeping…” 

“What?”

“Y/N… I don’t know how to explain this- I don’t think I should be describing these things to a lady-”

“Tom, Please! Tell me! I’ll be fine!”

“...Do you remember that one night- when- uh- your finger slipped into my- uh- bum?”

“Yes…”

“And how I told you that it felt good and made you swear never to tell a soul about it?”

“Yes! Of course and I would never betray you!”

“-Well… you see- Lorenzo- uh I guess- must also enjoy such stimulation and when I stormed into his room… the gardener, Bernardo was…. Helping him…”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that Bernardo was doing to Lorenzo what I was hoping to do with you when I got home from war…”

“...OH- I- I- I- don’t know what to say!” your cheeks suddenly felt hot with embarrassment.

“Lorenzo and I made eye contact!” he exclaimed.

“Well- then- what did you do?”

“I- I - just promptly shut the door and walked back here as fast as I could!” 

“Oh!” you say. You don’t know how to feel. Your heart hurts. You are suddenly confronted with a truth that tears at the fabric of your reality for the past 8 months. You start to play back every tender moment in your mind… it all feels so different now. 

“Are you sure that he reciprocated your feelings, Y/N?”

“No…” you admit. “He spoke fondly of Bernardo, during our chess games… And the way he smiled as he spoke… he never smiled like that at me…” 

It was all becoming clear. Amidst your pregnancy and loneliness in the Prince’s absence, you created a romance in your head that never existed. But it couldn’t have all been in your imagination. He must’ve played into it a little bit if it attention of the Prince’s informants. However, now you realize that he might have just been politely playing along, since you were his master. He also had his own secrets to cover up. 

Tom moved his hands away from his face and broke out in laughter. 

“What’s so funny?” you inquire. 

“Looks like I’m not the only that confused a commoner’s loyalty for real romantic feelings!”

Now you really feel foolish. You fell into a similar trap that you once scolded your Prince for. 

“Don’t laugh at me…” you say with a pout. “It hurts!”

The Prince gets up from his chair and crawls across the bed to you as he seductively asks, “And where exactly does it hurt?”

He kisses the pout right off your lips and you can feel him smiling and stifling a laugh. 

You break away from him enough to say, “It isn’t funny! I feel so stupid and embarrassed!” 

He throws his arms around you and pulls you close to his chest, “You poor thing…” he says sarcastically as a smile takes near permanent residence on his face.

“You are so relieved aren’t you?” you say muffled against his chest. 

“Of course I am! ...And you should be too…” you lift your head off his chest and look into his eyes as he says, “Since he poses no threat to me- I won’t kill him. Now, you will still have a friend to play chess with when I’m away.”

“So now harm will come to Lorenzo and Bernardo for their deeds?” you ask. 

“No,” the Prince confirms, “I won’t tell anyone about it and I suggest the same for you… Other nobles may be less understanding.”

You kiss your Prince appreciatively. This is perhaps the first time he has granted such grace. Although Lorenzo wasn’t the love interest you thought he was- you were glad to have kind company around when you weren’t able to be at the Prince’s side. 

“I suppose my mother knew what she was doing after all when she assigned Lorenzo to you. I bet she knew something and that’s why she picked him.”

“The Queen is a very intelligent and perceptive lady,” you agree. 

Even though your head still whirls and there is still a pang of heartbreak stuck in your chest, your admiration for Tom begins to consume you. He has come such a long way emotionally since you met him. He was becoming kinder and more communicative. He was growing into a man that your children could look up to. The night you conscretated your marriage you were worried about what kind of father he would be. But now, you are starting to have higher hopes. 

After a nice cuddle with your husband you both climb under the sheets for some rest. 

Before you drift off to sleep the Prince says, “You were very wrong by the way…”

“What?”

“He was definitely much bigger…”

  
  



	39. The King's at Peace

The marble casket rests in its carriage.

Mourners line the streets of the village outside of the summer palace. 

Or at least, they are posing as mourners. 

Some of them weep, perhaps not because the King is dead but because the next King will surely bring their demise. 

After the coronation, there will be no limit on your Prince’s power. 

He can chose his advisers or choose none at all. 

Knowing your strong headed husband the later seemed likely. 

But the Prince isn’t stupid. He surely must realize that his success is dependent on the efficiency of the Empire. Efficiency often means the delegation of power.

The Empire in its current state seemed to be bursting at the seams. The army and mercenaries spread thin at the borders. A few legions of them fighting the French for another small plot of land.

Ever since the Prince came home, the heavens have opened up, spilling the biggest rainstorm since the drought began. Was this it? Was this a sign? Was this a sign of Tom’s divine right to rule?

Where the dog days over? The night sky has been too cloudy to track the stars. 

However, the popular opinion of the people has been shifting. There are new innovations  being made all the time. A volley of skeptics have arisen denouncing the church and divine right. Should those heretics cause anymore noise, your Prince would be forced to perform another ‘cleansing’ ceremony. 

You’d hate to sit through another morning of beheadings. 

Those heretics seemed to be in the minority, but thoughts were contagious and unerasable. Once the idea is out there, it's impossible to know how far it has spread.

Words can become mobilizing, which is the most frightening of all. 

Rain splatters on the dirt paths. The carriage horses splash through puddles. Mud sprays in their wake. 

The late King was on his final journey across the Empire. Across the rural lands that he conquered. Across the fields that he loved. Across the towns full of people that he vowed to protect from foreign threats. 

Soon he’d arrive back at the main palace, where he will be laid to rest amongst his ancestors in the catacombs. 

And to think that one day you will be there along with him. Hopefully, once you have grown old and watched your heirs grow into strong and respectable men and women of the court. Perhaps the next Prince in the lineage was stirring in your belly already. But should it be a Princess, she’ll be well-groomed into a valuable asset for her father. Peace treaties, alliances, and financial support could be sealed by a princess’ mariage. 

If its a Prince- How will Tom react to raising the next ruler? Will he follow in the footsteps of his father’s teachings? Will he teach his son to fight at an early age. Will his son kill his first man before his voice even cracks? Will your son inherit Tom’s heart of a lion and wit of a fox? Will he escape to the brothels as he learns how to become a man? Will he be duped and heartbroken by the first whore he falls in love with? Surely, Tom would let you raise him to communicate well and handle his strong emotions. If he has half the fire his father has, then he will surely explode if he bottles it up. Imagining what Tom’s son would look like puts a smile on your face. Will his ears stick out from his crown just as much? Will his forehead crease and wrinkle the same way when he’s thinking? Will he grow tall and strong with thick hands ready to wield a broadsword?

But if its a Princess- Will Tom be disappointed? Will he lash out at you? Will he somehow make it your fault? Or will he surprise you? How would he raise a daughter? He has no sisters of his own- no precedent to fall back on. Will he raise her like a son or not at all? Will he be gentle with her? Teach her how to ride horses, hug her when he returns from war, ensure that her future husband will treat her like a lady? (Your parents certainly didn’t care much about that). Will she be as strong-headed as him? Will she thirst for power just as much and reject her role as a marriage pawn? Will she cause a ruckus in the palace, sneaking around with young servants- stealing their hearts and keeping them in a locked drawer? While she inherit is soft brown eyes? His natural knack for balance and gracefulness?

Only time will tell. 

But whether the baby be a Prince or a Princess their end is certain. They will forever rest in the catacombs under the main palace. Encased by a gaudy marble casket, their corpse will rest next to their father’s for the rest of time. 

Few things are certain. 

But that remains one of them. 

Tom prepares for his coronation. A formal ceremony he is less than thrilled to perform. The Queen Dowager insists that it’s tradition and the church that keep the monarchs steady on the throne. 

Your husband despises formality and itches to get back to the war front. He is not the type to sit idly on his chair, when there are lands that have yet to bow to his power. Part of you admires his ambitious heart, but you’d selfishly love to keep him around more often. Especially with the baby soon on the way. 

Lorenzo and some other maids help you prepare for the ceremony. Lorenzo seems sullen and shy. He avoids eye contact as much as possible. Perhaps that was the most you could expect from him given that your husband almost murdered him but instead walked in on his most private of secrets. For Lorenzo, the rouse was up. The curtain lifted. There was air that needed  to be cleared. The two of you were so close and open before the Prince came home and now you could hardly look one another in the eye without quickly averting the gaze from embarrassment. How silly you were to believe that a servant fancied you. How silly you were to never notice Lorenzo’s behavior around Bernardo. You must’ve been blinded by the emotions of your pregnancy. The maids worked hastily around you. Hemming your freshly sewn dress, fixing your hair into place, powdering your skin and practically soaking you in fragrance. It seems as if they want the whole village to smell you from your throne. 

Finally, you have the courage to grab Lorenzo’s arm and make strong eye contact. You don’t want to give him away to the other maids but you wish relieve weight on your chest. You smile at him kindly. He gives a hesitant smile in return but his eyes are still so full of sadness. Perhaps it was foolish to think that a simple smile would make everything better. He might still fear for his life, waiting for the chop of the Prince’s axe. 

You approach the Prince for the last time before the ceremony. 

He looks different. Something about him seems strange. 

He is wearing a face of fear. 

The brave lion, cowering before his Pride. 

His old crown rests among his curls. His brand new clothes match yours perfectly. For this coronation not only makes him a King but it promotes you to Queen. 

Even as he bites the inside of his lip and concern wrinkles his brows, you can’t help but think he is the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Perhaps it was just the emotions of the pregnancy talking. But maybe you found yourself growing fonder of the man you married blindly. Maybe you two have finally found a path in which you could learn to love each other more deeply through the strong partnership you’ve formed. 

You’d bear him as many heirs as he wants. 

Especially, since the process would require him to come home for awhile. And spending time renewing your intimacy. Feeling his warm skin on yours, under the sheets. Giving a touch that only he can provide. His weight on top of you, knowing that he is safe, that he is happy. That you could give him that happiness and satisfaction. That you could massage his aches and allow him to release his load inside you. 

Stepping closer to his side, you gently lift a hand to his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into it, holding your arm steady. 

You look up at him and he presses his forehead to yours. 

You hold there for a few moments of silence before asking, “What has you so troubled, my love?”

  
  



	40. The State of the Empire

“The bloody French, my dear…” he responds. 

“Don’t worry about that now, my Prince, today is your coronation. Today, you will be King. Free to make any decisions you need to defeat the French and-”

“-I was foolish,” he relents. “I should’ve never antagonized the Prince of France. I should’ve never tried to conquer that parcel of territory.”

“Surely, you can do something-”

“-No, Princess. I can’t. I was haughty. I was vain… I was.... Scared.”

You start to stroke his cheek with your thumb. 

His voice softens to a whisper, “I didn’t know how to handle the coup at home. I left for mercenaries but I also left in fear… Fear that they would be successful. Fear that they would storm our palace and slaughter us all, including my ailing father.” 

“So you ran away to protect yourself?” you ask. You try to keep your tone flat, so as not to accuse him.

“No… I ran away to protect all of us. I changed your location and moved myself as far away from you as I could. A coup is risky for villagers as it is- there is no use in attacking the palace if the next in line isn’t there and I would be safe amongst my army.”

You lace your hands at the back of his neck and he wraps his arms around your waist. His breath warm on your skin. 

“...But if I left it at that, you might mistake me for an honorable man and I would only be telling you half of the truth.”

You take in a deep breath through your nose, preparing for the worst. With all that the two of you have been through, surely you could handle whatever came next.

“...While I was scared for my family’s safety- I was also terrified of the responsibility resting on my shoulders at home. I couldn’t fix the drought and the food shortage- I’m a leader- not God- but the people were starving and angry and looking to me for answers I didn’t have. I’m not good with people-”

“-I know-”

“-You’re good with people-”

“-Finally, you understand-”

“-I’m good at fighting and war-”

“-I’m not very good at those things-”

“-Well, of course not, but you don’t have to be because I have that taken care of-”

“-That’s true. That’s why we can be a good team-”

“-Remember, my last night at home when we were in the stables and I said I wanted to run away and we fled to the village?”

“Of course.”

“Going for mercenaries was my sorry excuse to runaway. And the war. The war was my excuse to stay. My one last chance at making my father proud. Proving to him that I could be as great of a conqueror as him. That one day my casket would be adorned with glorious imagery of expanding our Empire. But also-” his voice breaks a little, “I was scared to watch my father wither into nothingness right in front of me…”

Tears brim in the Prince’s eyes but he holds strong. 

“It’s alright, Tom. We’ll get through this. We will get through this coronation, then we can figure out how to handle this war- and to our luck, this heavy rain could be the answer to our the drought-”

“-No,” he says curtly, “You don’t understand. One heavy rainfall won’t fix months of dry lands and dead crops. It only makes mud. If the drought is truly over, it will still take several months before the food shortage ends-”

“-Well, we can still figure out some solution. Perhaps, a new trade deal-”

“We are on hostile terms with nearly every bordering country. Making trade deals further out, would be practically useless with the amount of time it would take to receive the goods. The parts of the Empire that are unaffected by the drought are in the minority. The cost of food has escalated dramatically since the drought began-”

“-There must be something we can do. Something we haven’t thought of-”

“-And even if we do, I was foolish to start that war. To purchase all of those mercenaries. Every last one of them from that deal has been sent to the squirmish with France. And it is still not enough.”

“What about forcing recruitment in the villages? A man per household be sent to the war-”

“Starving, half-dead men won’t last the journey to the front lines. It would only make the commoners more upset.”

“... But what about Sam?! I sent a letter asking for financial assistance from the Scotland- maybe he’ll pull through-“

“I already intercepted his response. He can’t help us. I corresponded with him. He’s sorrowful that he can’t provide financial assistance. Scotland is fighting a religious civil war at the moment. His finances are strapped. And your parents won’t help either. I’ve already asked. They were upset that I bought mercenaries with their money to reinforce palace security- to keep you safe- and then ended up dragging every last one of them to war for my selfish gain.”

“But what if I ask them this time? I asked them before- but I’ll ask them again! Maybe they will feel differently knowing how dire the situation is!”

“I’ve already tried that… not long ago I convinced Harry to write a letter to your parent’s impersonating you. Your seal and everything. He really has a knack for that sort of thing and it seems that all those long talks with you paid off because they fell for it. Using the same messenger, the message they thought was bound for the summer palace came back to me. Your parents sent their love and prayers but admitted that the inflation had also put them on the brink. They are in no position to help as their way of life is slowly deteriorating.”

A palpable silence struck. 

Your back and forth banter came to a screeching halt.

You were out of ideas. 

And the Prince was out of options. 

You clear your throat and attempt to lighten the conversation, “Where is Harry? I haven’t seen him…”

“He didn’t come home-”

“-BUT IT WAS HIS FATHER’S-”

“-I made him stay.”

Your heart aches. You are missing your favorite brother. It hurt to think of him at a war he didn’t start, while accepting the loss of his father and the absence of closure. 

“If not for the coronation I would have sent him home and gladly kept my position as Commandant.”

This causes you to jerk away from him with a dangerously sharp expression on your face. He would’ve gladly skipped his father’s funeral to keep fighting a silly war. You suddenly doubt his rise in maturity, now that he admits he would’ve rather run from his emotions. That he would pick slaughtering men over visiting you… He wouldn’t even know you were pregnant. He would either die in battle or come home to child. 

“Princess- it’s not what you think!” he reaffirms in response to your visceral reaction. “When I heard the news, my deepest fear was confirmed. In shock, I feared the reality I would come home to. But then I thought about you, my Princess. How much I missed you. Admittedly, I tried as best as I could to forget about you during those 8 months.”

Offended, you jerk yourself away even further. 

He grabs you tight and pulls you close until your enlarged middle was flush with his, “Let me finish my thought before you demonize me.” You expected a growl but his voice was soft. 

  
  



	41. Partners

“I tried to forget about you, because the thought of you made my heart heavy. I felt terrible for leaving you. Especially, for the way I left you. I meant what I said when I told you I hate goodbyes. It killed me to walk away from you while you were begging me to stay. But I had to be cold. I had to detach myself. If I saw you begging for even a moment longer, I knew I wouldn’t have had the strength to leave. I tore myself to pieces with guilt for the entire journey. I could still feel your weight on my arm trying to hold me back. And mourned for the way I- the way I- tossed you aside... I couldn’t even look back at you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you looking at me like I was a monster again. But I needed you to be upset with me. I needed you to want me gone.”

The memory flashes through your mind. You recall how stoic and unfeeling he was. You could feel the chill of the stone on your palms as you propped yourself up, watching the doors close behind him.

“And your letters my dear… my heart skipped a beat when the messenger came and your name rattled off his lips. He asked if I wanted him to read it to me and I snatched it from his hand and shooed him away. I went to my temporary quarters and asked for absolute privacy. I wasn’t going to let anyone indulge in the beauty of your handwriting or the sweet nectar of your prose. Even in the form of a letter, I wanted you all to myself. Your words weakened me, Princess. I was glad my men weren’t around to watch me hang on every sentence I read, to see me come undone at your pleas, to watch me crumble at the news of your illness. I wanted to see you, my love. I didn’t wish to see you in pain but I told myself lies that my presence would heal you. I prayed everyday for your health. But if I came home, everything I did would have been for nothing. Realistically, I knew that my comfort couldn’t heal you any faster.”

The Prince moves his hands to your stomach, “Now, I see that the illness was just a sign of a blessing.” He kisses your forehead softly. His lips linger. Slow to depart from your skin. You can feel a gentle puff of his warm breath as he pulls away enough to look in your eyes. 

“I had to be abrupt in my letters. If I wrote more than a couple of sentences, I knew that my heart would pour out. I craved our midnight chats. The relief of breaking apart the mold I held together for my people. The comfort of your voice as you yell at me to open up and you cut me down to size.”

You start to laugh and the Prince joins you as thick tension dissipates. 

“It’s true!” he continues with a smile that refuses to leave. “You challenge me in a way no one ever has. You never shy away from conflict. You push through it. I admire that, Princess- In fact- I envy it. But you always console me. You put me back together and lift me back to my feet. But writing a letter back was much different. I’ve never been good with my words- and if I wrote anymore it would have been an incomprehensible vomit from my heart. I had to be curt. I needed you to stop begging me to come home. I needed you to stop sending me letters that put me in a swirl of emotions and distracted me from the war. But please know that every ounce of my heart meant it when I signed, ‘All my love.’”

A tear threatens to drop from your eye. You remember the heartbreak of receiving his letter. How his last three words felt like a cruel rouse. A contradictory statement. But now you understand that he really meant it. It was all he could afford to let show as he tried to be strong for his men. 

The Prince’s hand trails up to the back of your neck and he holds you steady as he gradually moves closer. His nose brushes against yours. His lips are parted slightly as they connect with yours. He is gentle and intentional with each subtle movement as if his whole body was proving his words true. All of his love was pouring into you. 

He didn’t stop until he was sure that you believed it.

When you split apart he says, “I kept your letters with me although I didn’t allow myself to look at them anymore. As time went on, it was easier to stow away my feelings and thoughts of you. Although, sometimes at night I was plagued by my desire for you. I was always so sore and I yearned for your touch. I missed your back massages. I missed the way your silky insides encircle my cock-“

“-that’s enough!” You say cutting him off. You knew that if he went any further on that subject there would be a tent in his knickers at the coronation. Or worse yet- you would both be late…

The Prince smiles and there is a flash of mischief in it. At the very least, you were glad that this conversation was lifting his spirits. Then the Prince looks down as if recalling a memory. Something that brought him back to the original point of his argument. 

“When I received the news that my father had passed. I was terrified. I effectively kept my nose buried in the war and international affairs for so long, that I lost all touch with the happenings of the palace. Your letters stopped and I told my spies to only contact me for news of a coup. I had no idea what I’d be coming home to. I wondered what state I would find my father in. He already looked like a corpse when I left. Would look any worse in his shroud? I had no idea and I feared the unknown. The sudden responsibilities that would fall into my lap the second I arrived. The stakes that would immediately rise after I am crowned King. It was overwhelming. But I realized that those fears were irrational because I would have you at my side. I can’t deny that when I am with you I feel more complete. I am no longer a lone wolf. I do not have to bear my burdens alone.”

“Then why did you say that you would’ve rather sent Harry home?”

“Because it’s my fault that he couldn’t see his father’s funeral. If I didn’t start that stupid war we we could’ve both come home. He could’ve been here for my coronation too.”

“You couldn’t trust anyone else to take the lead in your absence? Surely there are other loyal and competent soldiers.”

The Prince shook his head, “We need every single one of our strategists and strong warriors on the warfront. You might not have noticed, but the team of men that came home with me for protection was much smaller. And much younger. I could only afford to take the 2nd string foot soldiers out of the conflict. I am the only high commanding officer that returned. Truth be told, even with only my absence among strategists, there is still a measurable weakness. I know you want me to stay, Princess. And I hope you know that I would stick around for a little longer if I could, but I after the coronation I need to return to the French border.”

You try to hide the mist in your eyes. You didn’t want him to leave but you understood that he had to. Desperately grasping at any reason to keep him around longer you ask, “Were the mercenaries you purchased helpful at all? I thought they were well-trained and supposed to ease the burden of war.”

“They were good mercenaries. They are one of the only reasons why we’ve held on for so long. But their renewed contracts will be finished by the time I get back to the border. Without them, only two-thirds of our army will remain.”

“You can’t renew their contracts?”

He shakes his head solemnly, “There is no more money left, my dear. We would’ve had another few months worth of pay if not for the cost of the funeral and the coronation. Once the money is gone, so is the hired help. They have no personal stakes in the matter. Their loyalties lie elsewhere.”

“Could we not have scrimped on the ceremonies in order to by more time?”

He shook his head again, “If the public ceremonies were less than grandiose, the commoners would know how much the Empire is hurting. My main duty to my people is to protect them from foreign threats and if I am no longer able to provide them that service then there is no incentive for them to obey my laws.  And at this point I don’t know if we have the manpower to enforce the laws should chaos ensue. For now, they must believe that the crown still has money. The commoners are already upset with us. We can’t let them know how weak we are.”

You nod and pause in thought. Suddenly, in the silence the answer becomes clear. You say, “We have to surrender.”

“What?”

“I know you never give up. I know you have a lion’s heart but I am asking your to use your cleverness instead of your stubbornness for a moment.”

He nods. He’s a little surprised at your command and confidence.

“I know you want to be a great conqueror like your father. But that’s no longer a possibility at the moment. With the drought and other surmounting economic problems, the Empire has grown well beyond its means. We cannot sustain ourselves at the size. We need to surrender to the French and drawback entirely. As a peace offering, give them some of our land up to the nearest fortified city. They should be content with the gift and thoughts of taking advantage of our weakened state would be discouraged by the military structures already in place at the new border. A quarter of the men should return to fortify the palace as the commoners will be curious about the loss of land. The French will be inheriting some of the driest areas of our Empire and it will become their problem to solve. With less mouths to feed the price of food should shrink. We can use our peace with France to encourage trade deals with French-aligned countries.”

The Prince’s lips are pursed tight as his brain churns. He doesn’t like the plan, but he knows it’s the best option available. 

You reassure him, “It is better to have a smaller Empire than to have no Empire at all.”

He nods and finally admits, “You’re right.”

You kiss his cheek. You can’t help it. You adore the way his cheeks puff out when frustrated and pouting. 

“Don’t pout, my Prince. You have many years of reigning ahead of you. Perhaps in a few years when we reach stability we can start conquering again. Maybe we will take to the sea and conquer some islands…”

A smile breaches his cheeks. Those brown eyes look deep into your soul. When you two work together, the possibilities are endless. 

“Now, I believe it’s time for your reign to start.”

  
  



	42. The Ceremony

The royal carriage was ready and waiting. Black horses with braided manes flipped their heads as the rain drizzled on them. You and your husband were escorted to the the covered cart that was bound for the cathedral. The streets were lined with villagers from far and wide across the empire. Even in the rain, the turn out for their protector was immense. 

Tom gazed out at the crowd. At the people he had already failed. The people he was about to swear his life to. The people he would soon redeem with the advice you had given him. 

Tom seemed to be in a haze. Lost in his thoughts. His forehead wrinkled as his mind churned. Even subconsciously, he lends you a hand as you step into the carriage. You sit down but the Prince remains frozen at the door. 

“What are you waiting for?” You ask. 

“I don’t want to ride in the carriage…” he mumbles 

“What?!” You say aghast. 

“It’s not me, Princess. I’ve never ridden in a carriage and why should I start now?”

“Stop this nonsense-“

“I always ride with my men into battle. Out in the open. Despite any weather. These people deserve more than a king that hides behind a veil for his own protection. They deserve a King that is tangible to them. Someone who would bravely make personal risks for the betterment of the empire…. I want to start my reign on the right foot.”

“So what are you doing?”

“I’m riding to the cathedral.”

“But it’s raining and you’re all dressed up!”

“So?” He laughs as a devilishly handsome smile curls at the corners of his lips. “You think I care about a little rain? Since when have I ever cared for fancy clothes and jewelry?”

You can’t help but smile at your cheeky husband. He was right. He was his own breed of man. A King destined for greatness. A ruler to be remembered and idolized throughout the course of time. 

“But what about me?” You laugh. 

“You can stay in the carriage! No one expects a high born noble woman that’s 8 months pregnant to ride on a horse in the rain.” There is playful edge of taunt in his voice. The taunt prompts you to prove him wrong. He smiles wide as you raise a brow at him. He knows he’s convinced you and he’s much too proud of himself. He helps you out of the carriage with open arms. A maid gasps at the open display of physical affect. The Prince shoots back a glare at her and she silences. 

The Prince turns to a groom, “Where are Ivan and Mila?”

The groom is shocked for a moment at the request, but the team of stable hands work quickly to prepare the two horses. 

Ivan approached stepping quickly in the direction of the Prince. Mila trailed a few steps behind put off by the rain and large crowd. They were both decadently dressed. Ivan was in his battle armor along with saddle pad donning the family crest. Mila’s mane was braided neatly with flowers and the colors of her blanket matched Ivan’s. The maids handed you both hooded cloaks to shield you from the rain. You took yours graciously, while your stubborn Prince refused, “I have nothing to hide from my people and I fear nothing. Not even water falling from the sky,” he says arrogantly.

The maids helped you onto your mount. They tried to hide their worried faces. You could tell that they feared for your decision to ride while pregnant. You worried a bit too. But you wanted to make a statement along side your husband. Taking a risk to be at his side would show the commoners your loyalty as a wife and soon-to-be Queen. 

Tom mounts Ivan with ease, a broad smile stretching across his face. 

“I never get tired of hoping back in the saddle,” he says. 

Seeing his pure and unadulterated joy, brought a warmth into your heart, you would cherish this moment in your heart forever. 

You kicked your horses on and commenced the parade to the Cathedral. The wet cobblestone was slippery underhoof, but Mila and Ivan paced themselves accordingly. The drizzling rain slowly intensified as you reached town. Your cloak was getting heavier as the fabric absorbed the water. You briefly wondered if Mila thought you became fat since you last rode her. Perhaps, in her own way, she knew you were with child because she stepped carefully when she felt you wavier in balance. 

You looked at your handsome Prince and smiled. He was proud, the rain somehow made him look even more dashing as droplets of water dripped from his jawline. Most of the villagers hunched with the protection of their cloaks or cowered in the rain. Tom was unflinching with his head held high. He truly was a special breed of man. 

Some of the commoners gasped as you passed, probably wondering why you weren’t in the protection of a carriage. The men the Prince brought with him from war surrounded you in full armor riding on their horses. 

As you approached the illustrious cathedral the Prince commanded his men to halt and dismount. The Prince swung his leg over Ivan’s rump as he jumped off the steed. He handed the reins to one of his men and proceeded to help you down from Mila. The mare kneeled carefully to the ground at the Prince’s command.

The Prince looked deep into your eyes and behind a layer of pride you say to devotion and respect for you as a partner. You remember how empty, cold and soulless those brown orbs used to feel. Now looking into his eyes you could see a great King. The Prince called his men into formation, guarding the steps to the cathedral as you ascended. 

You were announced as the grand cathedral doors opened before you. The cathedral was packed with people. Noblemen, servants, maids, guards and couple lucky commoners probably. The room was fuller than you expected. Every seat crammed. People packed tightly in the standing room. You suddenly felt so nervous with everyone watching. Your eyes flit around for any familiar faces to bring you comfort. You search for Tom’s family or yours but the crowd is so large it was difficult. You both walk towards the altar. Two precious crowns atop a pillowed pedestal await you at the other end. You continue to scan the room inconspicuously out of your peripheries while you try to look proud. For a split second you think you see a familiar face but the woman turns her head the other direction before you can put a finger on it. 

Your hand rests on Tom’s arm and you feel him tense. At first you think it is just nerves about becoming King, but your gut tells you it’s something else. As you scanned, you notice the worried faces of some of the noblemen. Your heart begins to feel cold and your eyes flit ahead to the empty altar. Shouldn’t the Pope be waiting for you at the other end? Maybe he was waiting for you to walk down the aisle before standing up?

You turn around to face the crowd standing behind your respective crowns. You scan the room more carefully for your family but they are nowhere to be found. Instead, you catch eye contact with the familiar woman.  

It’s Bartola. 

She smiles sinsterly. 

It’s a trap. 

  
  



	43. Hope

A mob assembles. 

Strong and brutish men block the exit. Noble men and women are pushed into the aisle by commoners with crude weapons. 

They are forced to their knees. Men, women and children. 

All that was left of important families that were loyal to the crown.

As for your family and Tom’s, their fate was unknown but presumably not promising. 

Men that you saw from the brothel meeting that one night started to approach the noblemen. 

You were paralyzed with fright. 

You look to Tom and he is white as a ghost. 

There is an unfamiliar tinge in his eyes. 

It’s fear. 

“Call your guards…” you whisper. 

“... Can’t you see that they are in on it?” he utters, letting out a breath. 

You scan the room to see that the guards remain still in their post. They aren’t letting anyone in. But they also look like they won’t let anyone out. 

“What about your men outside?” you ask. 

“There is no way they can hear me from here. Even if they did hear me, they would kill us before my men even reach the door,” he says through his teeth. 

“Can you fight them?” you exhale a shallow breath. 

“I appreciate your faith in me, my love… but I don’t have enough arms for that.”

“So… What do we do?” you try to swallow down the lump in your throat.

“Nothing… at least, not right now,” he sighed softly. 

Tears start to fill your eyes, “Are we going to die, Tom?”

He takes a deep breath, “I don’t know, my princess…”

“How can you be so calm right now?” you whisper as a tear falls down your cheek. 

“Panicking won’t help us any. If we’re doomed. We’re doomed. But perhaps if we remain calm we can still figure out a way out of this…”

Even against the greatest of odds, your clever fox held out hope that he could find a solution. Escape fate itself. 

An older man makes his way to the front of the mob. 

Standing before you and your husband, he explains that he is an elder and reputable scholar. Tom quickly cuts him off to mention that he already knew who he was. 

Niccolo Machiavelli. 

The author of one of his advice books. 

He made a speech about how the Republic will always rise. That absolute rule is unsustainable.  The book he wrote for Tom was a mix of both good and bad advice. To Niccolo’s luck, Tom even went against some of the good advice in the book, allowing for easier deterioration of the crown. 

Tom held Niccolo’s gaze bravely. 

Even in the face of death, the Prince glared daringly. 

Niccolo explained that he would first execute the nobles that were loyal to you. Then it would be your turn to fall upon the fate of the axe. 

Niccolo turns and gives the go ahead for the execution of the nobles. One by one, heads are hacked and sliced, falling to the floor. Crimson liquid flows in pulses down the marble aisle. 

Between closed teeth, Tom breaths, “Follow my lead…”

You would not second guess this command. You trusted your husband with your life- and now more than ever. 

The aisle was a river of blood, the executioners were wading through the mess and tossing lifeless, headless bodies in to the pews. The bodies, even in death, were heavy like sandbags, hitting the wooden benches with a mighty thud. Niccolo and the rebels were struggling to navigate around the room with the impending mess. 

Suddenly, Tom grabbed your hand, and the two of you went flying towards a wall on your left. Confused, you still ran along with him as fast as your pregnant body could. Tom pushed through a false wall. Another secret door! 

On the other end of the door was a stone staircase, descending into catacombs for the extended royal family and other important noblemen. You could hear an uproar of shouting as the door shut behind the two of you. There was no time to worry about if they were going to follow or not or how soon they would be able to catch up. All of your energy was focused on following Tom and pressing forward. Your heart pounding in your chest, your adrenaline exploding through your veins- you felt invincible in your panicked state. 

Tom navigated through the twists and turns of the old stone tunnel. The ground was uneven and as your energy wore down, you began to stumble every other step. You hoped that the forks in the tunnel would be enough to give you distance from the mob. 

“Tom, where are we going?” you panted as your feet continued to catch your falling momentum. 

“These catacombs were built as an escape tunnel from the summer palace. If the palace was ever surrounded- these tunnels would spit you out into the cathedral. I suppose for the first time they are being used in a royal escape in the other direction.”

“Where do all the other forked paths in the tunnel lead then?”

“Dead ends. Some are traps, but most are just empty rooms for storage or shelter. No need to worry, I know which paths lead to the palace!”

A few left and right turns later, the two of you rounded a corner and skidded on your heels to a stop. The tunnel was blocked. 

Not caved in, but blocked. Deliberately with a thick wooden wall. 

“Is this one of the dead ends?” you say breathing heavily, “Did we take a wrong turn?”

Tom’s face was ghostly white once again. He let go of your hands and began to run his hands over the wooden barrier. “No… Princess, I am certain this is the path. I am as certain as I have ever been. The path of these catacombs and the ones beneath the main palace have been drilled into me since I was a boy... And the wood. The wood here is new. Someone built this wall. Someone knew we might try to escape this way.”

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. This was it. This was truly the end. 

“But why?” you ask, “Why would they put a barrier so far through the tunnel? Why not just block off the entrance or after the first or second turn? Why have us run halfway through the village underground?”   
There was a defeated and vacant look, in the handsome Prince’s brown eyes as he gazed at the wall, “I have no idea my love…”

“Hope,” a voice says from behind.

  
  



	44. A Tearful Farewell

You gasp and spin around to see the face of the man behind this revolution. He is holding a bloodied axe in his hand, “Didn’t your father teach you that a spark of hope hurts the most?” Niccolo smirks with pride and chuckles, “Apparently, your father also neglected to teach you the shortcuts of these catacombs. I didn’t expect to catch up with you so quickly.”

Tom stands in front of you protectively and you begin to sob. Just as things were beginning to turn around- just as you were about to withdraw from the wars and reboot the economy- just as you and your husband were becoming a team… and of course- bringing a new life into this world. 

“Please! Don’t kill us!” you plead to Niccolo.

“Oh, but I must,” Niccolo speaks sullenly. “Surely, your husband knows that you shouldn’t maim what you cannot kill. Your husband never once showed mercy to his people or took their interests into account- why should you deserve any mercy now?”

“Please!” Tom shouts and he drops to his knees, “Don’t hurt my Princess and our unborn child! They shouldn’t have to pay for the sins I’ve committed! They are innocent in all of this! They were just passengers- prisoners really- of my selfish reign. They have suffered at my hand just as much as anyone else in this empire! In truth, my Princess has always been an advocate for the people. She despised the executions. She encouraged me to withdraw from the war for more lands and protect my citizens. She wanted to participate in more international trade to abate the famine and decrease inflation. She has great plans for the greater good of these people and any good idea I have ever had, came from her. Please, don’t hurt her! Just take my head and my empire. I will not put up any struggle! Let my pregnant wife leave the empire peacefully.”

Tom bowed his head as he knelt. His hands behind his back to show that he was in complete surrender. 

Niccolo pondered for a moment and Tom remained as still as the corpses that were scattered throughout the tunnels. His brown curls fell over his forehead. You kept a hand over your mouth to keep from crying to keep from vomiting at the horror you were about to witness. 

The man you finally learned to love with your whole heart was willing to die for you. No greater love for a woman could ever exist. Not in this empire and not across the seas. Not from this day forward.

Niccolo finally replied, “I will spare your wife and unborn child, I can’t imagine being married to such a merciless tyrant was ever easy.”

You can hardly catch a full breath as you hyperventilate and bite your hand. 

Niccolo raises the axe above Tom’s neck and you pray that his aim is true and that his blade is sharp. You wince and close your eyes, preparing for the sickly sound of metal on bone and blood splattering on stone. 

“WAIT!” a voice calls with heavy panting breaths. 

Your eyes fly open and Niccolo pauses to look for the owner of the voice. Tom glances up as well.

Rounding the corner was Lorenzo!

Niccolo gasps with surprise, “Lorenzo?! What on Earth are you doing here?”

“Please, Niccolo, please spare these two- er three rather.”

Niccolo’s eyebrows raise with intrigue. 

“This Prince, as mighty selfish and cruel as he has been, he does have a kind heart! The cruelest things he has done in his reign were at the words of your book! He’s just a lost young man that was looking to legitimize his rule as he was coping with the reality of losing his father. He looked to your book for guidance in his father’s absence! Perhaps if you had given him an advice book- not as a trick- but as a genuine proposal he might have turned the tides of this empire! I think you wrote him off as a cruel leader to be tricked before you gave him a proper chance. I haven’t known him for very long but I have heard the Princess speak of him for hours on end. He may have been a violent and angry child but he had yet to learn the lessons of becoming a man. And he does have kindness. He does have mercy. More mercy than most! He had every right within the societal laws to execute me or exile me for a handful of offenses. But he opened himself up to understanding and protected my secret so that I wouldn’t be brought to my death by society's prejudices!” Lorenzo pauses for a quick breath, “Please, Niccolo, the Princess is a wonderful woman and her husband is very special to her. I believe, if given the chance, she can bring out the best in him. This man spared my life. Please, spare his.”

Niccolo inhales deeply, although his face expresses no emotion.

Then in a swift and powerful motion he swings the axe.

You let out a scream and shut your eyes. 

But the sound was different this time. No sound of splattering blood. 

You open your eyes as Niccolo swings the axe again and buries it into the would wall the blocks the path to the palace. Everyone is silent as he swings the axe a few more times until the boards are weak enough to be broken through. Niccolo make a hole large enough to climb through. 

“Go,” he says, “Go and never return. I shall respect a life for a life but this is your one and only chance. Leave this empire immediately. Travel as far away as you can. I will everyone that you two were executed, so you must be quick and discreet. If I hear that either one of you has stepped back into this empire or even if you get caught by one of the rebels on your way out- there will be no more mercy for you- no more second chances. Are we clear?”

“Yes!” you scream. 

Tom slowly stands up in utter disbelief. His hands are shaking and his eyes widened. The young man was prepared to meet his death and escaped it by the mercy of a servant. 

You scuttle quickly to Lorenzo and wrap him into a gracious embrace as tears stream down your face.

“I can never thank you enough, my dearest friend. I am forever in your debt and I will miss you terribly. I wish you a long and happy life- may you find an everlasting love of your choice!” you whispered as he hugged you back. 

As you pulled away, you flinched in fear that Tom may have some residual jealousy from the long embrace with Lorenzo. But to your surprise, Tom wrapped him in a hug right after you. 

“Be well,” Tom says softly, “Your mercy will never be forgotten. May you find peace and fortune in this revolution.”

A small smile came to Niccolo’s face, as you nodded in respect. 

You and Tom crawl through the hole of the barrier.

Into freedom.

  
  



	45. Epilogue

You and Tom safely escaped the Empire and eventually into Scotland, while cloaked in a pauper’s clothes. Due to the stress and hardship of the journey, your child was stillborn. You and Tom grew even closer over the loss as you gained more perspective on the struggles of an impoverished life. Luckily, Tom’s survival training skills from war, kept you both alive and fed as you journeyed. Once in Scotland, you and Tom traveled to the palace and begged humbly to meet with Sam and Queen Mary. You and Tom were welcomed with a warm embrace and Tom pleaded for a strategist position in Scotland’s army. Sam spoke to Tom’s credit and the Queen obliged. Sam secured a place for you and Tom to live in court. You both appreciated the splendors of noble life more than ever and you were grateful for every grace and opportunity you were given in Scotland’s court. Eventually, you and Tom conceived again and had many children, the first of which was a son. A son named, “Lorenzo,” in honor of the old friend that saved you and your husband’s life. You learned to appreciate your life and your family like you never had before. It turned out that the fall of the Empire was the beginning of your life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS IT! THE END! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING THIS STORY!!


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